


Of Patran Princes and Veretian Slaves

by sal_si_puedes



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Drug-Induced Sex, Dubious Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Extremely Dubious Consent, Graphic Description of Wounds, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Infidelity, M/M, Minor Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Slavery, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:20:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23737492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sal_si_puedes/pseuds/sal_si_puedes
Summary: Damen and Laurent are happy together and very much in love in the summer palace, when a messenger from Vere brings dire news: A faceless threat from Vask rallies its forces against the kingdoms of Vere and Akielos while they’re still recovering from the war against Kastor and the Regent.Once more, our two heroes have to face, brave and survive a series of challenges and unfortunate events set into motion by a villain from their past, a villain determined to break them at all costs.Laurent is a fool, and Damen is an idiot. Nikandros is Nikandros, and dark bells herald a fateful wedding…This takes off directly after the events of „The Summer Palace”, and Imeandirectly after them.
Relationships: Damen/Jokaste (Mentioned), Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince), Laurent/Nikandros (mentioned)
Comments: 33
Kudos: 91





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’m deeply indebted to my two amazing beta readers, the ever so lovely [lawsonpines13](https://lawsonpines13.tumblr.com/) (who graciously agreed to read this even though this isn’t her fandom) and my wonderful Carrie (who patiently listened to me go on and on about this in chat). Thank you ever so much, ladies! I couldn’t have done this without you. You rock my socks!!
> 
> The first two lines have been directly lifted from "The Summer Palace" by C.S. Pacat.

_Laurent said, „What?”_

_„You were watching the road,” said Damen._

Laurent chuckled under his breath and smacked his lips a little, then he licked them a bit, just with the very tip of his tongue, pointy and pink, causing Damen’s chest to tighten.

„I need to bathe.”

„In a moment,” said Damen, capturing Laurent’s mouth in a slow, lingering kiss. „Let’s get some sleep first.”

To Damen’s surprise and utter delight Laurent allowed the kiss, and he even returned it, lazy and open mouthed, and Damen was sure he’d never tasted anything so sweet. „Again?” he murmured against Laurent’s lips when he could feel Laurent beginning to stir once more. „Really?”

He shifted and deepened the kiss, and a small moan pearled from Laurent’s mouth. „You’re—”

With a palpable and to Damen quite astonishing effort Laurent pulled away, his cheeks flushed and his lips ripe and red, and for a moment there was a look in his eyes that Damen couldn’t quite place. Laurent sat up, a slight frown furrowing his golden brow.

„I really need to bathe,” said Laurent after a short pause, straightening his back. 

„It’s already hard to believe you let me keep you this long.” Damen smiled as he caught a glimpse at the traces their lovemaking had left on Laurent’s body. And on his. „Go bathe, then. And return to my bed quickly.”

Laurent froze for a moment, but then he relaxed again. „This isn’t your bed,” he said. He sounded almost serious, but the gentle, almost playful way he ran his fingers down Damen’s arm took the slight edge out of his words.

„No,” said Damen, reaching for Laurent’s hand. He captured it in his and brought it to his lips, smiling. „It’s ours,” he said and placed a soft kiss on Laurent’s knuckles. „Go bathe. Hurry.”

*****

When Laurent returned to the bedchamber with his hair still damp, Damen had cleaned himself as well and was already waiting for Laurent’s return in their bed. He had summoned a servant to bring them fresh fruit and drink, and he had had him open the doors to the balcony wide. The air was soft and warm and it smelled of summer flowers, jasmine and frangipani, and the thin gossamer curtains gently fluttered in the breeze.

„You came back,” said Damen, propping himself up on one elbow, leisurely running his fingers through his hair. 

Laurent was slightly flushed from his bath, and all he was wearing was a towel wrapped around his waist. He was the most gorgeous, the most awe-inspiring sight Damen had ever laid eyes on.

„Come here.” Damen held out one hand. His cock stirred between his legs as it brushed against the thin, soft cloth of the bedsheets. „There is something I want to ask of you.”

Taking one slow step after another, Laurent approached the bed, toned and elegant and with an air of caution, like a wild cat approached its prey. He sat down slowly, his eyes leaving Damen’s only for the shortest of moments when they dropped to the scar below Damen’s shoulder and then to his bare chest.

„What is it that you want to ask of me?” He reached out and ran his fingertips down Damen’s sternum.

A single strand of hair fell into Laurent’s face, curling in front of his eyes. Damen raised his hand and brushed it aside, his fingertips gently brushing over the soft skin of Laurent’s cheek.

„A favor.”

When Laurent’s eyebrows rose, almost as if in rejection, but then his features softened again, Damen felt a smile spreading across his face.

„A favor?”

Damen nodded. „Yes. Kiss me.” He reached up and curled his hand around Laurent’s neck, pulling Laurent towards him. Holding his breath, he watched Laurent’s eyes slowly flutter shut the closer his lips came to Damen’s.

He stopped when no more than a hair’s breadth separated them. „Kiss me,” he whispered and licked his lips. „Laurent. Kiss me.”

He stayed still, waiting for Laurent to close the distance, to claim Damen’s mouth for what it truly and utterly was – his. 

Laurent tasted unbelievably sweet when he finally leaned in and made their lips meet. His kiss was intoxicating, the skin of his face still fresh and warm from his bath, his breath gradually becoming one with Damen’s. 

When Laurent broke the kiss again after only a few moments, Damen waited. He could feel the warmth Laurent’s face and body were radiating against his own skin, and he felt his chest expanding. He felt the longing, the yearning inside his chest grow and grow and grow until there was nothing else left in him. He wanted.

He opened his mouth to ask Laurent to kiss him again, to plead with him, to bargain, to beg if needed – whatever it would take for Laurent to lean in just a little more, just a little bit more. But before he could do any of that, Laurent leant forward and brushed his lips against Damen’s, carefully, almost hesitantly.

Damen stayed still. It was the hardest thing he had ever done, that, not to devour Laurent on the spot, not to simply take everything Laurent was and make it his own.

Slowly Laurent deepened the kiss. His breathing intensified, and he inched a little closer, tentatively resting his hand on Damen’s hip.

It was all Damen needed. He rolled onto his back, pulling Laurent almost on top of him, Laurent’s body lush and pliant, melting against him like liquid metal melted into its mold. 

Laurent’s fingers found their way into Damen’s hair just the same way his tongue began to explore Damen’s mouth. Hesitant at first, Laurent’s tongue and fingers grew bolder with every beat of Damen’s heart.

Damen opened his legs a little, and Laurent slid between them, his hardness firm and hot against Damen’s, the towel falling away from his hips as if it were nothing. Less than nothing, even.

Damen couldn’t help but moan. He cupped the curves of Laurent’s ass with his hands, pulling him even closer, humming his growing pleasure into their kiss. His legs wrapped around Laurent and he flexed his hips, drawing a helpless little moan from Laurent, echoing his own.

„I want you,” said Damen, claiming Laurent’s mouth again even before he could finish taking a desperately needed breath. 

_„Again?”_ Laurent’s hips had taken up a subtle roll, almost teasing, driving Damen towards the brink much faster than he had ever thought possible. _„Really?”_

Damen briefly caught Laurent’s lower lip between his teeth, letting his hands roam up the muscled plain of Laurent’s back, and then back down again. „Yes.” He nodded. „I want you so much. More than I have ever wanted anything else in my life. And as for the favor… I want you to be my first.”

From one heartbeat to the next Laurent turned to stone under Damen’s hands. The kiss was broken, and Laurent tried to break free from his embrace as well. 

„You—What?”

„I want to give you my First Night.”

For a moment, Damen tightened his hold but when Laurent’s body tensed even more, he let his legs sink onto the mattress and opened his arms.

Laurent struggled to his knees, his face as white and as hard as the marble walls. 

„No.”

Damen’s lips were still tingling with their kiss, his whole body was still vibrating with it, and he ran his hands over his mouth briefly, trying to catch Laurent’s eyes.

„I’m—” Laurent shook his head curtly, his mouth a thin line and his eyes shielded by the painfully familiar stone-walled battlements. 

„What?”

„I’m not going to do that to you. I—I won’t.”

„But—”

„No. You can’t.” Laurent’s palms ran up and down his upper legs restlessly. „You can’t want that. You can’t. Not… Not from me. You—”

Damen propped up his legs and spread them a little further, lowering all his defenses, exposing himself, laying himself open for Laurent.

„But I do.”

He watched how Laurent’s gaze dropped between his legs and how a faint blush spread over his face. His pale lashes still stood out against the now darker color of his cheeks, fluttering in the same rhythm as the pulse of his throat. 

Laurent’s breath was shaking. His hands were shaking as he ran them over his legs again. 

„You…”

„Yes.”

It felt as if Damen could almost see Laurent think. Laurent’s face softened a little, and his eyes lost some of the harsh defense they’d been shielded by. He tilted his head.

„Why?”

Damen exhaled. Laurent was obviously still fighting the urge to flee, and that he hadn’t already left their bed felt like a small triumph to Damen. He carefully and very, very slowly raised his hand. _Like trying to approach a beast of prey,_ he thought.

Slowly, he reached for Laurent’s left hand and took it in his right. After a few cautious breaths he laced their fingers together, letting his thumb brush over Laurent’s pulse. It was rushing, an erratic flutter. _A bird in a cage,_ he thought. _A bird in a cage._

„Because,” said Damen. „Because I want to give this to you. Because I want to be yours just as much as you are mine.”

For a moment Damen thought Laurent was going to withdraw. He felt Laurent’s hand tensing in his, and for a moment he thought he had lost. This. Laurent. Everything. But then, almost imperceptibly, he felt Laurent relax a little, and he loosened his grip.

His fingers still trembling, Laurent reached out with his right. He leaned forward a fraction and brought it between Damen’s legs. His knuckles brushed against the inside of Damen’s thighs, but he dropped his hand again before there was a real touch. He slowly shook his head, as if in a dream. 

„I don’t understand.”

„Because it is all I have to give,” said Damen after some moments of silence. „Because it is everything I am. And I want to give it to you. Because you deserve it. It is a slave’s greatest honor to give his First Night to his king.”

„I don’t—You shouldn’t want to do that,” Laurent whispered. „You are not a slave and I am no—”

„Laurent,” said Damen, his voice soft with trust and honesty. „You are deserving of this.”

Damen watched how Laurent lifted his hand again but, once more, stopped his movement in midair, his eyes fixed on that spot between Damen’s legs where Damen was desperately longing to be touched. 

Laurent’s mouth was a thin line of concentration, accompanied by a hint of a wonderous frown. And then he looked up, and his eyes met Damen’s. The expression Damen found in them that was unreadable.

„I—” Laurent took a short breath, his lips thinning even more. „I don’t know what to do.”

Damen caught Laurent’s hand in his free one and pulled him towards him. Laurent was so tense, his body wired with the urge to bolt, weary and alert. There was only a thin layer of air between them, yet it felt impenetrable as a stronghold’s walls. A brief glance downward told Damen that Laurent’s mood had changed in every way.

He drew Laurent in for a soft kiss, humming soothingly while their lips barely touched. He let his tongue dart out and run over Laurent’s lips, briefly, playfully. 

„You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Laurent gasped, and the clasp of his fingers tightened. 

Damen knew that Laurent was debating with himself, he knew the struggle that was taking place behind that golden brow, inside that marble chest. He could only suspect what Laurent was telling himself, how he was fighting against what he was sure he knew, convincing himself to trust, to stay. He licked over Laurent’s lips once more.

And then Laurent’s lips opened, and Laurent was kissing him back. Carefully, reservedly, but he was kissing him back. 

Damen let Laurent control the kiss, let him lead them, let him set the pace as well as the mood. Laurent desperately needed to be in control, and Damen was going to give him that.

„Do you want me?” Damen whispered into their kiss after an endless sequence of silent questions had been nipped and brushed against his lips. „Laurent. Do you want me?”

Laurent broke the kiss and lifted his head a little, locking his eyes with Damen’s.

„Yes.”

Laurent’s answer sent a slow wave of heat through Damen’s body, a wave that crested between his legs and that drew a low moan from his lips. There was no way of hiding from Laurent, not anymore, and the way Laurent’s eyebrows rose in reply to Damen’s palpable desire made Damen smile.

„Then have me.”

Another of those short, gasp-like breaths fell from Laurent’s lips, but this time Damen could clearly see a shadow of an answering smile on Laurent’s guarded face.

„Again, you make things sound so simple.”

„They are,” said Damen. „This is simple.” Damen’s lips found Laurent’s. „Touch me,” he said, his voice a little hoarse with his growing need.

Laurent rose to his knees again and sat back on his heels. When Damen nodded, Laurent brought his hand between Damen’s legs once more.

Damen opened his legs a little further. _I’m spreading for the Prince of Vere,_ he thought, _I’m spreading for Laurent, Prince of Vere,_ and that thought sent another wave of fiery arousal through his entire body, causing his cock to swell even more. _Take me, my Prince. I’m yours._

He found his fingers fisting into the fabric of the sheets, and he willed them to relax. When the very tips of Laurent’s fingers first made contact with his skin, a fire was lit inside of him like he’d never felt one before. He had never been so aware of himself, only connected to this world by that small, so very small part of his body where Laurent was touching him. For a moment Damen felt as if he was going to spend himself right there and then, and another wave of heat washed over him, leaving him panting and seriously struggling to hold back.

„Wait,” he whispered, lifting his hand a little as if to reach for Laurent’s wrist, but he immediately realised that if he moved, he’d fall. „Wait, I—"

Laurent’s head shot up in bewilderment, and his hand stilled. When his eyes met Damen’s, he blushed.

„Oh.”

All Damen could do was laugh breathlessly. 

„Just let me—just give me a moment,” he murmured. „Or I’ll… I want this,” he reassured, when a shadow began to form on Laurent’s face, wincing as his cock gave an enthusiastic twitch. „I want this so much. Maybe a little _too_ much.”

_„Really?”_

Laurent’s voice was tender and soft, but his eyes began to fill with a hint of mischief, teasing Damen almost past the point of no return.

„Do you think I could…”

The thought died on Laurent’s lips but not in his fingers. He touched Damen again, right there, and then there was the softest of pressure, right there, _right there_ , and then Damen could feel the impossible happening, the one thing that went beyond everything Damen could imagine, let alone understand.

The very tip of Laurent’s finger breached his body. 

It was all it took. Damen squeezed his eyes shut and threw his head back, his mouth opened in a silent scream, his back arched, and he came. His release was violent and overwhelmingly fast, his seed hot and sticky on his skin, and the residual waves of his climax echoed through every fiber of his being for what felt like eternity.

When he was able to open his eyes again, Laurent’s finger was still inside of him, and Laurent was staring at him with a look in his eyes Damen couldn’t quite place. 

„Did I—” Laurent fell silent and moved his finger a little, coaxing a helpless moan from Damen’s lips and making his spent cock stir once more. „Did I do that?” His eyes traced the pearly lines of release on Damen’s chest and stomach, an incredulous look in his eyes. „That was… because of me?”

Damen nodded, and when a satisfied, kind of smug expression appeared of Laurent’s face, he chuckled.

„Do it again?”

He rolled sideways a little and reached for the small phial on the low table next to the bed. He held it out to Laurent and smiled.

„Here. Use this.”

Laurent prepared Damen’s body with the same diligence he applied when he studied maps or checked the bridle of his horse before going on a ride – silent, concentrated, deeply immersed in his task and utterly thorough. He seemed almost completely unaware of Damen’s reactions, the silent ones as well as the broken curses and hoarse moans that kept spilling from his lips as Laurent’s fingers slowly and meticulously worked him open.

But Damen knew that wasn’t true. He knew that Laurent listened to every single note Damen’s body sang, he knew that somewhere there was a hidden place inside of Laurent that was so attuned to Damen it almost made him choke with the intensity of it. Damen knew that Laurent was searching for any sign, even the smallest, most subtle sign of discomfort, and that if he’d found one he’d have stopped. Pain was acceptable but only as long as it was mixed with pleasure. 

Which it was. Damen’s body was covered in sweat by the time Laurent withdrew his fingers, his heart was racing and he was fully roused again, his cock fat and hot and heavy against his stomach, crystal liquid leaking from the slit. The fire that was raging inside of him threatened to consume everything else that was left. 

„Use some more,” whispered Damen, his mind foggy with need. He nodded to where Laurent had dropped the phial onto the mattress earlier. „On you.”

The skin on Laurent’s face and upper body was flushed the most arousing shade of pink, and he had been biting his lips to a dark red, like ripe pomegranate, and Damen was dying to drink from them again, to taste their sweetness and the faint hint of bitterness that always lay beneath. 

Damen’s eyes followed Laurent’s hand as he reached for the oil, as he unstoppered the phial and as he poured some of its contents into his palm. 

Blushing an even deeper shade of red, Laurent looked up. „I don’t know if I can—If I, if I do this… I don’t know if I can last.” His cock stood hard and red between his legs.

_Hot silk_ , Damen thought, and how much he was yearning to feel Laurent move inside of him. 

„It would be easier for you if I—” He motioned to roll onto his stomach, but Laurent stopped him with an oily hand on his thigh before he could move.

Laurent shook his head. „Like this,” he said, his voice filled with so much painstakingly bridled desire it made Damen’s chest hurt. 

„Like this,” Damen echoed, bending his legs again. His heart had never beaten so wildly, his chest had never hurt so much. He watched Laurent’s fingers wrap around himself, and he watched as Laurent slowly moved his hand up and down a couple of times, carefully spreading the oil over his cock. He watched Laurent scoot forward a little on his knees and position himself. He watched Laurent’s eyelids flutter shut and his lips part slightly, his face heartbreakingly composed and calm. He never closed his own eyes when the tip of Laurent’s cock nudged against the entrance to his body, he never closed them when the pressure increased, he never closed them when Laurent breached him and began to push inside. 

The look on Laurent’s face changed with every little bit he pushed forward, from carefully controlled tension to painful concentration to guarded pleasure to cautiously claiming passion to utter incredulous wonder.

Laurent stilled as soon as he was fully buried inside of Damen, and his eyes fluttered open. There it was again, that look that took Damen’s breath away and made him lose himself over and over. His arms wrapped around Laurent as did his legs. His hips rolled, drawing Laurent in even deeper, and they both moaned.

„Don’t move.” Laurent’s words were nothing more but a whisper against Damen’s pulse point. „If you move…” 

Damen nodded, cradling Laurent’s head against the hollow of his throat. He could feel Laurent pulsing inside of him, and when he tightened his muscles around Laurent’s cock, Laurent drew in a sharp breath, and his fingers dug into Damen’s arms hard.

„Don’t. Don’t do that,” Laurent murmured helplessly, and Damen felt Laurent’s words humming through every nerve in his body. Laurent was tense and wired above him, but his lips against Damen’s skin were soft and hot, and his heartbeat was a wildly fluttering bird in a golden cage. „If you do that again I—”

Damen did, and Laurent’s grip on his arms tightened even more, his body going even more rigid. 

„If you do that again,” said Laurent through gritted teeth, „I don’t think I’ll be—”

Again.

Laurent swore when a shallow thrust of his hips answered Damen’s challenge.

And again. 

„Damen. I—”

And again.

Laurent’s hips jerked, and a sound escaped his mouth that could only be described as fragile, raw and desperate. „I can’t… I—” His eyes widened when Damen tightened around him again and flexed his hips, beginning a continuous roll that was slow and deliberate at first but gradually sped up thrust by tantalizing thrust.

Laurent was panting and making low, needy sounds against Damen’s skin, indicating how close he really had to be to the fall, and at the same time driving Damen closer and closer to the precipice as well.

When Damen felt that Laurent was on the very brink of climax, he stilled for a few breathless moments, and time stood still as well. Then he drew Laurent in as deep as he could and with everything he had. 

Laurent shattered in his arms. There was no other way of perceiving it, no other way of thinking about it. Laurent broke and completely fell apart, pulling Damen with him into the endless abyss of blissful release. 

Damen came hard between their sweat covered bodies, and Laurent emptied himself deep inside of Damen, and for a few precious moments of blinding pleasure, they really and utterly were one.

Laurent shook and trembled through his orgasm, and Damen had never been so aware of any other being in all his life – nor of himself. He could feel Laurent everywhere, on his skin, inside of his body, in his mind, in his heart and in his soul. 

„Laurent,” he whispered a few moments later, still so very much out of breath, still so intensely buzzing with the after-shocks of their climax. „Laurent, I—”

„I know,” Laurent murmured against Damen’s trembling lips, his lashes painting golden circles on his rosy cheeks. „I know now.”

„What?”

Damen cupped the back of Laurent’s head and brushed his lips against Laurent’s as Laurent began to soften inside of him.

„What do you know now?”

Laurent tilted his head upwards and let his eyes flutter open.

„I know now why they call you _Exalted._ ”

Damen had to close his eyes at that. His chest expanded, and for a moment he thought that he’d never before been in so much pain.

*****

The days at the summer palace passed easily and golden, just like the warm breeze from the sea and the sound of the waves, and on especially clear days, Isthima was visible from the palace’s tower. 

Laurent, Damen found, enjoyed spending time on top of the tower, overlooking the waves and the wind. He also found that he himself enjoyed finding Laurent up there, Laurent’s body palpably relaxed and maybe a little heavy with exertion after wrestling practice with Nikandros or after he’d come back from one of his rides, freshly bathed and clad in a white chiton, his hair softly fluttering in the wind. He enjoyed walking up behind Laurent and wrapping his arms around his body, pulling him close, sometimes even without the slightest flinch from Laurent, and holding him like that for a while. He enjoyed burying his nose in Laurent’s hair and humming softly, feeling Laurent shiver in his arms with pleasure and lean back a little against his chest.

He enjoyed sharing meals with Laurent, eating delicate morsels from Laurent’s fingers and feeding him southern delicacies in return. He enjoyed bathing in the sea together, and he enjoyed watching Laurent read. He enjoyed reuniting with Laurent after sword practice, sweaty and sticky, and he even enjoyed Laurent sending him to the baths with a stern frown upon his brow when it technically already was too late. He enjoyed Laurent’s eyes on him, roaming over his body, following the lines of his arms and legs, and Laurent’s fingers cautiously travelling over his back or boldly over his chest, ghosting over his nipples and wrapping around his cock. 

Damen enjoyed spending time with Laurent. He enjoyed discovering more of Laurent’s playfulness and grace, sharing his knowledge and his wonder at the smallest things. 

Life was easy at the summer palace. The nights were warm and soft, just like Laurent’s skin, and Damen had come to develop a taste for afternoon naps, his and Laurent’s limbs entangled and boneless, Laurent’s breath caressing his skin just like his fingers had only mere moments before. 

Damen loved making love to Laurent, and he loved falling asleep like that afterwards, together. Especially since that was something Laurent would only rarely allow.

When he awoke in the early afternoon on their fifth day at the summer palace, Laurent’s warm weight on his chest and Laurent’s fingers lazily running over the skin of his shoulder and upper arm, he could feel himself smiling.

Laurent’s breath ghosted over his nipple, and he was a little too slow to bite his lips to stifle the broken moan that fell from them at that sensation. He could feel Laurent first smile and then silently shake against his chest.

„Stop laughing,” said Damen, burying his nose in Laurent’s messy hair, inhaling deeply. This had to be the sweetest thing. He could feel Laurent’s cock stir against his leg, and his own responded in kind.

„No,” said Laurent, shaking his head a little, his voice still slightly raw but steady, his soft hair tickling Damen’s throat. „I won’t.” Laurent’s fingers moved from Damen’s arm to his chest, circling his nipple slowly, then brushing over it with just the faintest of touches. 

„Laurent,” said Damen, the name tasting so very tempting on his lips, as always holding a promise of more, of so much more. „I—”

A sharp knock on the doors had Laurent stiffen for a moment but then his body relaxed again. 

„Enter.”

_Not again,_ Damen thought as the doors opened and Nikandros entered the room with fast, determined steps that stopped dead in their tracks once he saw them lying on the bed together. His eyes widened for a second, and his mouth fell open but he brought his features under control again admirably fast.

„Exalted,” said Nikandros, the word catching in his throat ever so briefly. Then he turned his head a little, addressing Laurent. „Your Highness.” He paused, apparently unsure how to proceed.

Damen’s stomach clenched, his body responding to the tone of Nikandros’s voice almost with the same intensity as it had before to Laurent’s re-awakening desire. Something was wrong.

„Speak,” said Damen, and he felt Laurent stiffen again. He tightened his embrace a little, willing whatever Nikandros had come to say to have already been uttered, acknowledged and dealt with. So that he and Laurent could go back to—

„A messenger has arrived from Vere, Exalted,” Nikandros finally said and cleared his throat. „He is waiting for you in the great hall.”

Damen nodded. He could feel Laurent gathering his mind, preparing himself to rise. His arms around Laurent tightened of their own accord. „I’ll be with him in—”

„He said it’s urgent,” Nikandros interrupted, causing Laurent to frown against Damen’s chest. „He said he needs to speak to you and the Prince at once, especially the Prince. He said it was a matter of life and death.”

„Give us a moment,” said Damen, and Nikandros nodded curtly, his jaw set and the look in his eyes closed off, hard, before he turned on his heels and strode from the room, closing the doors behind himself, eyes cast to the floor. 

Laurent’s hair smelled of what had passed between them just the shortest of times ago, and of sweat, and under all those layers there was the slightest trace of the soap Laurent had used in the baths earlier that day, in the morning. Damen wondered how it still lingered there, sending his mind back to where it all had started. Today. This. Them. Everything.

„I wanted—”

Laurent cut him short by disentangling himself from his arms and rising from the bed in one quick, fluid moment, and Damen caught a glimpse of what was between his legs, a remaining hint of arousal calling out to Damen’s heart.

„We should get dressed,” said Laurent without turning around. „I’ll meet you in the great hall.”

Damen thought there was the briefest moment of hesitation in Laurent’s movement when he bowed down to pick up his clothes, but he couldn’t be sure.


	2. Chapter 2

When Damen entered the great hall, the messenger from Vere had been brought refreshments, but they had remained untouched. The messenger was still in his riding leathers, he looked sweaty and exhausted, his shield and sword leaning against the stone wall next to the hearth. 

Damen had washed himself and donned a chiton and sandals, and he was still feeling as if he was wearing too much clothing in the summer’s warmth, even here, even inside the thick walls of the summer palace.

Laurent was still there, inside of him and around him, he could feel it – the soreness, the friction, the pulse. He could feel himself blush at the thought of what they’d just done, and once again he was grateful for the olive color of his skin. 

Never breaking his step, he walked towards the messenger, who, alongside the few servants present, fell to the floor, prostrating himself as the King of Akielos approached.

„Exalted,” said the messenger, and Damen’s heart missed a beat. Would he ever be able not to think about Laurent again when people addressed him by his title? Would he ever be able to forget how Laurent had felt when he came inside of Damen when someone called him by that name from now on?

„Rise,” Damen commanded, and the messenger obeyed instantly. He was a young man of roughly Laurent’s age, but his skin was almost as dark as Damen’s, and he was wearing a short, slightly shaggy beard. He must have been on the road for days, riding from Vere, probably directly from Arles, the capital, directly from the royal palace. For a brief moment, Damen’s thoughts flew back to lavishly ornated rooms and luxuriously scented baths. 

„You have a message for us.”

„The message is for you and for the Prince,” the messenger replied, his eyes demurely cast to the floor, as it was customary and expected of common folk in the presence of royalty. „I was instructed—”

„Speak.”

Damen turned around to face the source of the interruption. There he was, walking towards them across the great hall, Laurent, Prince of Vere.

Laurent looked every bit the part, austerely clad in dark blue Veretian garments head to toe, cloth and laces everywhere, his boots immaculately clean, his high collar almost reaching up to his jaws, his arms held behind his back, his right hand clasped around his left wrist. 

Damen felt a stab in his chest as if he’d been run through with a sword, a blunt sword wielded by an opponent who was as strong as an ox and who knew exactly how to wound a man in battle.

Laurent’s face was completely blank. He lifted his chin slightly when he came to stand next to Damen, facing the messenger with an indifferent, yet intimidating stare.

„Your Highness,” said the messenger with a bow of his head. There were dark rings under his eyes, and he swayed a little when he lifted his head again. He had ridden to exhaustion to convey what he had been sent to say.

„There has been an attack on Vere. A series of attacks. It… Several villages in the east have been overrun, razed to the ground, many were killed. They… The attackers came from Vask. They came at nightfall. It—”

Laurent took a step forward, and the messenger fell silent.

„Who?”

Laurent’s voice was flat and controlled. Damen tried not to hear the echoes of the moans and curses from earlier, from all the times they had made love since they’d arrived at the summer palace. He tried not to remember what Laurent had spoken of during those times and how his voice had sounded – but he failed.

_Damen._ And _I can’t last._ And _Make me come._ And _I Did I do that? That was… because of me?_ And _I know now why they call you Exalted._

„Who is responsible for the attacks?”

The messenger had begun to tremble under Laurent’s scrutinous stare. „We’re not sure, Your Highness.” His words were hesitant, insecure, rather resembling a question than an answer. „There’s been a note, someone left a note pinned to—”

He held out a piece of parchment, withered and torn around the edges, and Laurent snatched it from his hand before Damen could even take a step forward and reach out for it.

Laurent’s eyes flew over the messy writing, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. He took a deep breath when he was finished reading and turned his head to his left, to where Damen was standing.

„The Vaskian Empress has been overthrown,” he said, his voice strangely hollow and almost free of emotion. „She and her council have been dismantled and probably executed. They say that there is a new leader now, a powerful and dangerous madwoman, and she is coming for Vere. And for Akielos.”

He held the parchment out to Damen, his hand almost as steady as his voice. „Vask is coming for both Akielos and Vere. And we’re still too weak. They’re coming for both of—”

Damen read what Laurent had just related while Laurent dismissed the messenger with a wave of his hand. 

„We have two kingdoms,” said Damen, searching for Laurent’s eyes. A foolish hope flared up inside of him. Two kingdoms united as one. _It was one kingdom, once_. „We stand—Akielos and Vere stand united. We could—”

„Both Vere and Akielos are still too weakened,” Laurent interrupted, and in an instant, Damen’s hopes were crushed. Laurent was right, of course, Damen had known that before. They’d just fought and won a war. And despite Laurent’s and his own best efforts, their costly won leaderships had not yet come into full effect. „Our troops are still severely diminished and the governments are still recovering. We need another ally.”

Laurent was right, and he knew that Damen knew it as well.

„Torgeir,” said Damen, and Laurent nodded. 

„Patras. Yes.” Laurent’s eyes rested on Damen’s face for a couple of silent seconds before he spoke again, his words as sharp as daggers. „We shouldn’t have come here. Ios is still in too much of a disarray, as is Arles. We shouldn’t have come here. You need to leave as soon as p—”

„Laurent—”

„And I will ride to Patras. I can forge this allegiance, on both our behalves.”

„We’ll ride together,” said Damen, taking a step towards Laurent, attempting to reach for his arm. „We can—"

„Leave Patras to me,” said Laurent with a determination that allowed for no arguments, already halfway turned towards the door, already ready to walk away. „I’ll ride in the morning. You’ll return to Ios.” He took a step away from Damen and towards the doors, but then he stopped, and his shoulders sagged a little. “Ios needs you now, you and Nikandros. Ios needs its kyros, and Akielos needs its king.”

Again, Damen knew Laurent was right. He needed to return to Ios as soon as possible, have the kyroi assemble at the palace and prepare for whatever lay ahead. He watched how Laurent took a long, deep breath and straightened his back before he spoke again.

„I will send Pallas to Arles at first light tomorrow. He will inform the Council and report back to me in Bazal.” 

With a deep frown on his face, Damen watched Laurent leave, the sound the heels of his boots made on the marble floor still ringing in his ears long after Laurent had gone.

*****

The rest of the afternoon was spent in tense industry. Laurent conferred with Pallas for over an hour, instructing him on what information to relate to the Veretian Council and how to have the Councilors prepare country and capital for potential further attacks and, if things didn’t go as planned, for yet another war.

Damen dispatched a messenger to Ios with orders to send for all the kyroi, calling them to assemble at the palace as soon as possible. Akielos had to be prepared for the worst in case Laurent’s plan to forge an alliance with Patras didn’t work out as well.

Only four members of the Prince’s Guard would accompany Laurent, but still horses had to be outfitted, supplies had to be stocked and travel bags had to be packed. It was already the blackest part of the night when Damen returned to the bedroom – to find Laurent standing on the balcony, his back turned to the doors and his hands resting on the parapet. He was still fully dressed, and his posture betrayed the tense state of his mind.

Damen picked up a goblet from one of the small tables lining the walls, filled it with wine from the carafe standing next to it and brought it to his lips. He took a large swallow, his arm feeling heavy and his movements slow. 

Laurent didn’t move. When Damen set down the goblet again, the metal made a harsh sound on the table, and Laurent flinched, but he still wouldn’t turn around. 

Slowly, Damen crossed the room and stepped out onto the balcony. He cleared his throat before he closed the distance and softly placed his hands on Laurent’s shoulders. 

Laurent’s body was as hard as stone under Damen’s touch, his muscles tense and his nerves strung like a soldier’s bow. 

Damen hummed low in his throat and aligned his front with Laurent’s back. He brought his arms around Laurent’s torso and buried his nose in his soft, golden hair.

„Come inside,” Damen murmured, holding Laurent close against him. „You need to sleep before you leave for Patras in the morning. And before that…” He buried deeper into Laurent’s hair until he found skin. He mouthed at the nape of Laurent’s neck, his lips turning into a smile. „Hmmmm…”

A shiver ran through Laurent’s body, and for a few precious moments he gave in and relaxed, all but melting into Damen’s embrace. Then his whole body turned to stone again. 

„I don’t—” He turned around, rigid and unyielding in the confinement of Damen’s arms. His eyes bore into Damen’s, guarded and cold, but there was something else deep inside of them, at their very bottom, that tore open the ground beneath Damen’s feet. 

Damen could feel Laurent’s heartbeat against his chest. Laurent’s heart was fluttering wildly against his ribs, yet his breathing was controlled and measured so as not to betray any of the goings on inside of him to anyone on the outside. 

Damen dropped his arms and took a step backwards. Laurent held his gaze for another few moments, then he gave a curt nod and stepped out of Damen’s reach. Damen caught Laurent’s wrist before he could walk away.

„Laurent,” said Damen, his fingers rough against the fine material of Laurent’s clothes. „Let me attend you.” 

Again, Laurent briefly yielded to Damen’s touch, but then his shields went up again even faster than before. 

„Why?”

Damen frowned. Laurent was avoiding his eyes.

„For old times’ sake?”

Laurent’s wrist dropped from Damen’s grip, but Laurent didn’t move. All he did was raise his chin a little and lock eyes with Damen, his stare as cold as ice.

Damen held his gaze. _Don’t do this,_ he thought. _Don’t do this. Don’t take this away from us._

Just like he wouldn’t when they’d fought each other in the training arena at Marlas, Laurent didn’t back down for the longest time. He fought this battle with cunning threats and silent accusations, hidden traps and calculated losses, but Damen held his ground.

When Laurent raised his chin another little bit, Damen knew the war inside of him was approaching its turning point. At that moment, everything was still very touch and go, and things could still fall either way. They had both become veterans in that kind of fight, and Laurent had been training for this for far too many years.

The tiniest flicker in Laurent’s eyes, and Damen knew that this was his chance to run him through with his sword, maybe his only chance. And in a moment of weakness, he took it and charged.

„Yes.”

It nearly broke his heart to see Laurent’s resolve break like that, in a single instant and to Laurent’s utter surprise. The sound that fell from Laurent’s mouth reminded Damen of a wounded stag who hadn’t seen the hunter’s attack coming, the attack that had cut him down before he’d even realised that he had been struck. 

Damen pulled Laurent against his chest and closed his arms around him. His hold on him was loose, he knew that Laurent would immediately bolt if he thought he couldn’t, so he left all the escape routes open. 

Laurent stayed. His breathing was harsh at first, and his body rigid and tense, but under the steady strokes of Damen’s hands on his back, he finally relaxed a little.

Damen hummed again, and he could feel Laurent shiver in response. His fingers found their way underneath Laurent’s hair and to the nape of his neck where they began to gently undo the laces of Laurent’s jacket. 

„Don’t,” Laurent hissed, and Damen could feel him stiffen again. „I—”

Damen rubbed his cheek against Laurent’s hair, humming again, but he didn’t drop his hands. „Let me attend you,” he murmured, drawing another bit of lacing open. „Let me do this for you.”

Another bit of thread came free, and Laurent almost imperceptibly shook his head. 

„I don’t need this,” he muttered. Damen considered it another small triumph that he didn’t pull away. „You don’t have to. I can—”

„I do,” said Damen calmly, trying his hardest not to scare Laurent away. „ _I_ need this. Let me…”

And finally, finally, he felt Laurent give in. Laurent’s arms came up, and he held onto Damen for support as Damen continued to untie the laces at Laurent’s back. Subtly, oh so subtly, Laurent nodded against Damen’s chest and sighed.

„Let me do this for you,” Damen murmured, never ceasing his gentle ministrations. „Let me take care of you…”

He took the smallest step backwards, breaking their embrace, and reached for Laurent’s chin. Carefully, he tilted Laurent’s head up, and when their eyes met, he smiled.

„I want you to remember this when you ride to Patras tomorrow,” said Damen, gently brushing his lips against Laurent’s. „I want you to remember me when you’re gone.”

Laurent’s lips were pliant against his own, and when they locked eyes again, Laurent’s were wide and dark.

„I don’t,” Laurent whispered, and Damen’s heart missed a beat. 

Laurent reached up and wrapped his arms around Damen’s neck again, pulling him in for a deep, slow kiss. His fingers found their way into Damen’s hair, his heart fluttering against Damen’s chest in a way that made Damen’s knees go weak. 

Damen could feel himself react to the kiss, his pulse speeding up and his cock beginning to harden. He wanted. Again, he wanted. He wanted Laurent so much it hurt, so much his whole body hurt, so much it surpassed even his wildest dreams and his most vivid imagination. He wanted Laurent more than his next breath, more than the golden throne of Akielos, more than life itself. 

Breaking the kiss, he took a deep, shaking breath. He needed to reign in his desire, he needed to get a grip on himself, to take a step back, so he could give Laurent what he wanted.

„Laurent, I—”

Laurent silenced him with a quick, hungry kiss. „Don’t go slow this time,” he murmured against Damen’s lips. „Make me remember, then. Tomorrow, when I ride.”

Damen knew that Laurent was asking him to make his body remember, so his heart wouldn’t have to. Laurent’s words felt like that blunt sword again, run through his body and twisted by the hands of that invisible battle-worn opponent. He reached up to cup Laurent’s face with both of his hands and let his thumb brush first over Laurent’s cheekbone and then over his lips.

„As you wish,” he forced himself to smile. „My Prince.”

Laurent’s eyes flared, and he blushed fiercely. Cursing, he crushed their mouths together in a kiss so bruising and violent it hurt. 

„Fuck me,” Laurent challenged, breathless, digging his fingers into the muscles of Damen’s back. „Make me spread for you and fuck me. Like you wanted to back in Arles.”

Damen groaned, his cock twitching helplessly between their bodies as Laurent relentlessly pushed his leg between Damen’s.

Laurent was pure temptation, flushed and dark-eyed with lips so pink and pliant it made Damen forget where he was and who. The thought of that taut, muscled body underneath all those layers of clothing tore at his heart and ignited a fire in his groin unlike any he’d ever felt. An image flared up before his inner eye, and he bit down on Laurent’s lower lip in an outburst of sheer need.

Laurent moaned and threw his head back, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth partly open. 

A small droplet of blood welled up on his lips, and for a fluttering heartbeat it was all Damen could see. Then he brought their mouths together again, tasting the blood he had just drawn. When his tongue ran over Laurent’s lip and Laurent’s mouth opened to him, a bolt of panic shot through him. For a moment he was not entirely sure he’d even make it out of his clothes before he…

Swearing, he pulled his dagger from his belt and grabbed hold of Laurent’s wrist with his free hand. He brought the blade to the lacing and hooked it behind the first loop, cutting through the thread swiftly, silently praising the artistry of Akielon weapon makers. He made quick work of the laces holding Laurent’s sleeves in place while Laurent’s fingers fumbled with the fastening of his trousers. 

Damen tucked the dagger back into its sheath and pulled Laurent’s jacket off. He reached for the trousers and pulled them down, moving to get on his knees to take off Laurent’s boots, but Laurent fisted his fingers into the cloth of Damen’s chiton and shook his head.

„Leave them on,” he panted, his voice strained and raw. „Just fuck me.”

Damen nodded. Laurent’s cock stood red and hard, and it jerked under Damen’s gaze, a drop of clear liquid beginning to form at the slit. With another curse on his lips, Damen turned Laurent around and shoved him against the wall, kicking his legs apart as far as the trousers pooling around Laurent’s calves would allow. 

„Lean forward,” he commanded, and Laurent complied, swearing under his breath. Damen spread Laurent’s cheeks apart with his thumbs, moaning at the sight of what he found between them. Part of him still wanted to take this slow, to be gentle and to caress, to worship and to soothe, but another part of him, an ever-growing part, longed to mount, to take, to claim. Running his thumb over the entrance to Laurent’s body, Damen surrendered to that part. 

His thumb pushed against the tight muscle guarding the entrance to Laurent’s body until it was breached. 

His preparation was quick and sloppy, first with his thumb, then with two, then finally with three fingers, and Laurent was still impossibly tight when he withdrew and spat into his palm.

He entered Laurent in one forceful thrust, the grip on Laurent’s hips hard like iron claws, and Laurent screamed. Damen knew then, even through the fog of his desperate arousal, that that sound would stay with him for the rest of his life. 

This wasn’t going to take long. Damen could already feel his climax building inside of him, curling deep down in his groin. He flexed his hips, and Laurent screamed again when he pulled out and pushed back in again, digging his fingers into Laurent’s white skin. There would be bruises tomorrow, Damen knew, and the day after, and he knew that that was exactly what Laurent wanted.

His thrusts were shallow at first but soon they sped up and grew more and more intense. Damen held on to the last shred of control he possessed with whatever was left of his will. Laurent’s fingers had wrapped around his own cock soon after Damen had entered him, and he was stroking himself roughly. Laurent had to come first, Damen knew that, he knew that Laurent would hurt more, later, tomorrow and the day after, if Damen managed to keep fucking him at least for a little while after he had come. 

He prayed that Laurent could come at all, and that he could come like this, and soon. He wouldn’t be able to keep this up for very much longer. He could feel Laurent’s desperation surrounding him, his frantic heartbeat, his breathless pants, the erratic strokes of his hand, his other hand braced against the wall. He could feel Laurent teetering on the brink of climax for what seemed like an eternity, almost forgetting how close he already was himself. 

As a last, desperate resort, he let go of Laurent’s hips and batted Laurent’s hand away from his cock. „No, you don’t,” he hissed as his own fingers closed around Laurent, and his hand began to move. „Like this.”

After only a couple of strokes, Laurent went completely rigid and came, spurting his release all over Damen’s fingers as Damen stroked him through his climax, rough and hard, the same way he kept fucking into Laurent until he couldn’t hold back anymore himself. 

He froze and emptied himself into Laurent’s body with a grunting curse on his lips, trying to keep his hips from thrusting as much as he could, before he bit down into Laurent’s shoulder hard. Not breaking the skin but bruising it, leaving another reminder for Laurent to feel and maybe even to touch tomorrow, if he needed to. And the day after.

For some moments after he’d finished, he allowed himself to stay inside of Laurent’s body, trying to catch his breath. Then he pulled out. He was drenched in sweat, and so was Laurent. He wiped his hand against Laurent’s undershirt and took a step backwards. 

Laurent was still braced against the wall, his head bent and his breathing fast and shallow. His legs trembled a little, and Damen ran his hand over Laurent’s bruised arm once before he stepped back and adjusted his chiton. 

He longed to hold Laurent, to soothe the hurts and bruises he had caused, but he knew Laurent wouldn’t allow that. He was surprised that Laurent had allowed that one soft caress already, but maybe be had just still been too out of it to have noticed or to have done anything about it.

Biting his lips, he turned around, walked over to the doors to the balcony and stepped outside. The summer night was warm and heavy with fragrance, the air ghosting over his overly sensitized skin in a mock caress. He stayed outside for a while, running his fingers through his hair every now and then, until his breathing had evened out and the sweat on his skin and in his hair had begun to dry.

When he returned back inside, the room was empty.

He quickly cleaned himself and undressed, then he slipped under the sheets. A servant knocked and entered to light the candles, probably having been sent there by Laurent. Damen closed his eyes for a moment, his limbs heavy and his body hollow and drained. 

The sound of the doors opening and closing again made his eyelids flutter open again. Laurent had bathed and changed into one of his Veretian night shirts, his hair still damp and his lips swollen and bruised. He must have bitten them when—

Laurent’s and his eyes briefly met but Laurent looked away after only a few moments. He walked over to the large table and sat down in one of the chairs, drawing one knee against his chest. He was barefoot.

Damen watched him stare at the flames of the candles in front of him.

„Why did you let me do that?” Damen asked quietly. _To you,_ he added in his mind. _Why did you let me do that to you? Why did you let me hurt you so much?_

Laurent turned his head and locked eyes with Damen again. He didn’t say anything for the longest time, but when he finally spoke, his voice was devoid of any emotion.

„It’s what you’ve wanted to do to me ever since you first saw me,” he said. „Isn’t it? In Arles? In the Harem and in the baths? And then again after the cross. Especially after the cross.”

A blunt sword. 

„Laurent…” Damen didn’t know what else to say. There was nothing else left to say after that.

This time, it was Damen who looked away first. He lowered himself down onto the mattress, pulled up the sheets and closed his eyes, willing his breathing to stay even and his mind to remain empty. He failed.

When Laurent finally slipped under the covers next to him, Damen had lost track of time. It already had to be closer to morning than to midnight, he thought. 

When he woke up the next time, the sun was beginning to rise, and the bed next to him was empty and cold.

Laurent had already left for Patras.


	3. Chapter 3

The ride back to Ios was quick and swift. Within a few days after Damen’s return to the royal palace, all the kyroi from all over Akielos had assembled there at their new king’s behest, and Damen held counsel with them several times a day, discussing options and outcomes and planning for every turn of events they could possibly think of. 

Laurent had left for Patras several days ago by then, and the bruises on his hips and shoulder would already have faded. 

Damen counted the days until he might receive news about how the negotiations with King Torgeir were proceeding. Pallas must have reached Arles by then as well, the Council must have been informed and instructed, according to Laurent’s wishes. 

Nikandros, though kept from Damen’s side by his duties as kyros of Ios more frequently than Damen would have liked, was a trustworthy pillar of strength and truth in those times of waiting and uncertainty. Sometimes, Damen felt Nikandros’ eyes on him, felt the concern and that hint of reproach in the way he looked at him, and when their eyes met on those occasions, Nikandros always was the one to break eye contact first and to look away quickly, as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have done.

Nights were short and days were long, filled with strategy meetings, hours of waiting and long, taxing training sessions Damen had imposed on himself. Nights were short – and filled with restless sleeplessness or, on the rare occasions Damen did fall asleep, unsettling and haunting nightmares. 

_Laurent, pale and serene in a pool of dark water. A golden dagger protruding from a marble chest. A thin red line of blood trickling from the corner of a pale mouth, and empty, hollow eyes._

_Arles broken and in ruins, the ornated walls torn down, and smoke rising from crumbled masonry._

_A faceless army of a million soldiers advancing on Ios._

_And, again and again, Laurent, riding away on a pale horse, looking back at Damen over his shoulder with eyes like battlements, leaving him behind alone._

Damen rose earlier each morning than he had risen the one before, taking his position on the palace’s topmost balcony and letting his gaze wander over the range of hills stretching out to Ios’s north. 

When the messenger from Patras finally arrived, Damen was in the middle of a strategic meeting with his council of kyroi and their chief bannermen. Nikandros was there and Makedon, and even Enguerran had come all the way from Arles, uniting the armies of Akielos and Vere as the strategic forces of the newly forged twin kingdom. Maps were strewn across the table’s surface in the great hall, and Damen was leaning over them when the doors were opened and an exhausted messenger boy stumbled inside.

Damen’s breath caught in his throat. He knew that messenger.

„Erasmus,” said Damen after a short pause of stunned silence and walked around the table towards the young man, who immediately fell to the floor to prostrate himself in front of his king.

„Please,” said Damen and held out his hand. „Please rise.”

Slowly and painstakingly, Erasmus scrambled to his feet, his face flushed and his eyes downcast. 

„Please,” Damen repeated, trying to get Erasmus to look up at him. „What do you need? Food? Drink? A physician? You—”

„This slave,” Erasmus interrupted, and Damen could only guess what it must have cost him do cut short the word of the king. „This slave has ridden day and night to bring you these words from Bazal, Exalted.” He took a deep breath and reached into the fold of his clothing. With trembling fingers, he produced a scroll of parchment and held it out to Damen on outstretched hands. „Exalted,” he said again, and Damen nodded.

He took the scroll from Erasmus’ hands, quickly broke the seal and unrolled the parchment, taking in the words written on it in a hand he didn’t recognize.

_Torgeir, King of Patras and Patriarch of Bazal, is honored to announce the formal engagement of his brother, His Royal Highness Torveld of Patras, Fifth in line to the Throne, and His Royal Highness Laurent, Prince of Vere and Acquitart, Designated King of Vere and—_

Damen barely felt the scroll slide from his hands and fall to the floor. He was unable to move, his vision blurring and his heart pounding erratically, his throat constricted, and there was not enough air, not enough air, and he was going to—

„Leave us.”

Nikandros’s voice cut through the fog, and suddenly there was hectic movement around them, the sounds of scurrying feet and of heavy wooden doors falling shut and then – silence. 

Damen could hear the blood rushing through his veins and his heartbeat reverberating in his ears.

When a hand touched his shoulder, he flinched.

„What is it, Exalted?” Nikandros’ words were cautions, carefully probing. „What is the news from Patras? Is the Prince—”

Damen shook off the hand and bent down to pick up the scroll. He handed it to Nikandros without saying a single word. His hand rubbed over his face, and he bit the inside of his cheeks so hard he tasted blood.

„I’m going to kill him,” said Damen when he could speak again. His throat hurt as if he’d swallowed a hand full of rusty nails. His eyes saw red.

„Laurent?” 

„Torveld.”

„It is not he who has betrayed you,” said Nikandros, and Damen’s head snapped around.

„He had no other choice,” he shot back, and his words tasted bitter on his tongue. „He must have thought he had no other choice.”

„Torveld?”

„Laurent.”

„Exalted,” said Nikandros, taking a small step closer again. „The Prince… He never was one to be truste—”

„You don’t know him, Nikandros,” said Damen, fully aware of how desperate he had to sound, his aching heart resonating in every word he spoke. „You don’t know him the way I do.”

„I know him,” said Nikandros after a moment of silence. „I know what he did to you before. And to your back. I have seen it. I have seen the scars. I have seen the story they tell unfold before my very eyes many times. And that story has many chapters. I’ve known the likes of him for—”

„There is no one like him.”

„Exalted,” Nikandros tried again. „Damen. He—”

„He must have been desperate,” said Damen, running the back of his hand over his mouth. „He must have thought that this was the only way out. He—”

„He betrayed your trust. He betrayed Akielos, and he betrayed _you_. He’s—”

„You.” Damen was panting by then, his hands balled into fists. „Do. Not. Know. Him.”

„I do.”

„He’s… You don’t. Once you really get to know him, once he has let you inside, you know that he’d never—”

„I told you this would happen. I told you to bed him if you had to and then to forget about him as soon—”

„I have.” Damen took a deep breath and turned to face Nikandros once more. „You know that I have bedded him. You know that I have lain with him, Nikandros. Know now as well that I have seen him as he truly is, I’ve seen inside his heart and his soul. You don’t know him like that. If you did, you’d realise… You don’t know him like that.”

Nikandros held Damen’s gaze for another heartbeat or two, but then the look in his eyes changed from defiance to something else entirely, and he looked away.

„I… Damen, I—Forgive me. I—” Nikandros pointedly avoided Damen’s eyes, staring at the floor next to him.

Damen felt a dull pain in his chest before his mind even realised what he had been told in between those stammered words. 

A rusty dagger.

„No.” 

Damen’s voice was barely more than a whisper. 

„ _No._ Tell me you didn’t.”

„Exalted,” Nikandros stammered. „Forgive me. I—He—”

„Don’t call me that.”

Damen’s hands balled into fists again, his nails digging into his palms so hard they almost drew blood.

„E—"

„You have no right.” Damen exhaled. He could feel his body vibrating, and he didn’t understand why. „Get out.”

When Nikandros hesitated, Damen’s hand flew to the halt of his dagger. 

„I said _get out._ ”

Slowly, Nikandros walked over to the table and lay down the scroll. Then he left.

*****

When Damen exited the great hall some time later, he left utter devastation behind. Maps and parchments thrown everywhere, some of them even smoldering in the fireplace, grey smoke filling the air, smashed jugs, burst fruit on the floor, and no table or chair that had not been turned over. He was still clutching the scroll Erasmus had guarded with his life on his long ride from Bazal to Ios, and which he had produced from that fold in his clothing as if it were a hidden weapon. The fingers of Damen’s other hand were a deadlock around his dagger’s hilt. There was blood on the edge of the table, on some of the strewn maps and on the dagger’s blade, but he didn’t know where it had come from. He didn’t realise it was his.

He stumbled back to the bedroom, blind to his surroundings, and, breathing heavily, dropped into one of the chairs, dagger and scroll still clutched in his hands.

Someone entered the chamber, and Damen’s grip on the dagger tightened. 

Nikandros. He walked over to where Damen was sitting and took a seat opposite him, at the other end of the table. He waited.

„Why?” It was all Damen could say for a while. „Why did you do it?”

„He—” Nikandros started to speak, but he fell silent again when Damen looked up and caught his eyes. He shook his head. „I—” 

Damen tilted his head a little, holding his gaze.

„He made me,” said Nikandros finally. 

„He _made_ you.”

Nikandros took a deep breath and nodded, once.

„When?”

„The—the other day. A couple of days ago. We were wrestling. Another practice session. He had asked for it, the day after you had arrived here. He said he wanted to learn some more of the technique, he said you had been pleased to find out that we... I mean, that he... He said you liked wrestling with him, and that he wanted to learn more. He must have laced my water with something. I was—I swear I’d never—Otherwise I’d never…”

„Did y—did he… What—” Damen held up his hand when Nikandros tried to speak. „No. Wait. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

„Can you forgive me?” Nikandros’s voice sounded very small when he finally spoke again, almost as it had when they had still been young men and Nikandros had told him he had been chosen to serve as guard at the Kingsmeet.

Damen sighed. He finally loosened his grip and placed both the crumpled scroll and the bloody dagger on the table in front of him. His fingers were stiff, so he flexed them a little before he looked up again.

„I don’t know.”

Nikandros nodded and rose. 

„Wait,” said Damen before Nikandros could turn around and leave. „Ios still needs you. Akielos needs you. We—” He cleared his throat and wiped his palms against his chest. „We need to revise our plans. With this new information. We—We know now for sure that there’ll be an alliance with Patras, and we must make—”

„In an hour,” said Nikandros when Damen fell silent. „You need to see the physician. You are bleeding.” He nodded briefly. „I will sent him here so he can see to you, and I will be back in an hour,” he added.

Damen nodded. 

„Order the King’s Guard to prepare for departure,” he said. „We ride for Patras in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *meep* I'm sorry? But sometimes it needs to get worse before it can get better, right? Trust your author...?


	4. Chapter 4

On the journey to Patras, Damen kept to himself most of the time. He didn’t join the men at the campfire at night, and during riding hours, he spoke only those words that were strictly necessary. In the evenings, after they’d made camp, he separated himself from the men as soon as it was possible and engaged in sword practice for hours until his arms and shoulders were heavy and numb with exertion.

During one of those training sessions, a few days before they’d reach Bazal, when he had just lowered his sword after a series of intricate parades and was trying to catch his breath, his body shining with sweat, he heard a sound behind him in the woods, and he turned around.

Nikandros had stepped into the clearing. He looked just as drained and as exhausted as Damen felt, his cheeks hollow and dark half-moon shadows under his eyes. He took another step towards Damen, and Damen raised his sword again.

„I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Nikandros stopped, and from the corners of his eyes Damen could see how his hand crept to the hilt of his sword.

„I wouldn’t do that either.”

Nikandros sighed, his shoulders sagging. „Damen,” he said and took another small step forward. „I—”

„On the other hand,” Damen cut in, pointing his sword at Nikandros’s side where his sword was still in its sheath. „Maybe it is exactly what we should do. Draw.”

Nikandros blanched. 

„Are you challenging me?”

Damen tilted his head and flexed his shoulders.

„It is my right.”

Nikandros swallowed. 

„You know that I would be no match for you if we crossed swords, not now, not when you are like this. You know that I am good but you also know that you are better. You were always better, and you know it. It wouldn’t be a fair fight.”

„ _Fair?_ ” Damen spat, his chest tight with rage. „You dare speak to me about fighting _fair_?” 

Nikandros stepped back when Damen positioned himself to attack. 

„Draw.”

Another wave of searing anger flared up inside of Damen when all Nikandros did was shake his head.

„No.“

„You would disobey a direct order from your king? You would choose the coward’s way out and shy away from a duel? I said _draw_!”

He charged, and that was the moment Nikandros’s instincts kicked in and took over his actions. He had been trained to fight all his life, and his body simply wouldn’t let him stay out of this. His sword flew from its sheath into his right, and he parried Damen’s swing with the efficiency of the experienced fighter he was.

Damen fought with concentration, his chest burning, and every clash of their blades sent a jolt of lightning through his body. His vision zeroed in on his sword and Nikandros’s sword, and it didn’t take long until he had Nikandros lying on the ground, weaponless, and the tip of his sword at the hollow of Nikandros’s throat. For a brief moment it felt like a triumph. 

They were both panting, and the terror in Nikandros’s eyes shook Damen from his frenzy. A part of Nikandros really thought that Damen was going to kill him, Damen realised, and the shock of that realisation hit him like a sword made of ice. He stumbled a step backwards and then another one, his sword falling from his hand and his blood roaring in his ears. He felt sick. As if in a dream, he watched Nikandros rise to his feet, and somewhere at the back of his consciousness he registered that Nikandros was bleeding from a deep cut to his right upper arm. 

„I never meant for it to happen,” said Nikandros, his voice trembling just like his hands. „I never meant to—”

„I know,” said Damen. He ran his hand over his mouth and blinked. „I just wish you had… refused him.”

„I wish that, too,” said Nikandros after a brief pause. „I wish I were a better man.”

Carefully, Damen picked up his sword. His arms and legs felt as if they were made of lead. His vision was blurry, and his head hurt almost as much as his chest.

„You are a good man,” he said, walking over to where Nikandros’s sword had fallen when Damen had knocked it from his hand. „I know that.” He picked it up as well and held it out to Nikandros, hilt first.

„You were no match for him.” _I was no match for him._

Nikandros held Damen’s gaze for a moment before he took his sword back. Then he looked away and pushed it back into its sheath, exhaling shakily. 

„There is no match for him,” he said, and his words pierced through Damen’s chest like polished Akielon steel. 

„Was—What was it like?“

Damen felt how his own words took his breath away for a moment. He felt as if he was choking.

„Damen,” said Nikandros. „Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t—”

„No.” Damen cut him short and squared his shoulders. „I have to know.”

„I—We—”

Nikandros stuttered and fell silent. 

„Was it—“ Damen swallowed against the raw pain in his throat. „Was it good?”

„Yes.”

The earth seemed to open up under Damen’s feet, and he fell. He closed his eyes.

„It—” Nikandros cleared his throat, and when Damen opened his eyes again, Nikandros was looking at him, biting his lips. 

Damen cursed, squeezing his eyes shut. Then he nodded. He knew how it could be with Laurent, when he—

„You can lose yourself in him,” Damen whispered. „He becomes everything there is.”

Taking a deep, shaky breath, he nodded again and opened his eyes. 

„Let’s head back to the camp,” he said and walked up to Nikandros, his sword still in his hand. He lay his other hand on Nikandros’s shoulder and let it rest there for a short moment. „You’re wounded, and you are in desperate need of some sleep. You look terrible.”

„Likewise,” Nikandros replied, trying out a careful, tentative smile. 

Damen wasn’t able to return the smile, so he just nodded. 

„Let’s go.”

*****

It became a little easier after that. There would be a scar on Nikandros’s arm, later, when the wound Damen’s sword had cut would have healed, matching the scar in Damen’s heart. It was good to look at the bandaged arm from time to time, when Nikandros rode beside him, the silence now peaceful instead of tense, or at the wound when the physician changed the dressings in the evenings.

The first few times, it felt good to see Nikandros flinch when the new dressings were applied. It felt right.

For the longest time, Damen couldn’t stop seeing the two of them together whenever he closed his eyes, light and dark, Nikandros’s eyes closed while Laurent’s remained wide open, looking at Damen over the shoulder of the man fucking into him. 

After a few days, when Nikandros gave him a tentative smile, from one rider to another or across the camp fire at night, he began to smile back.

It began to feel good again to have his friend with him. Not just the advisor, not just the strategist, the kyros of Ios, but the man who had known him since their childhood days. 

It hadn’t been Nikandros’s fault, Damen reminded himself of that again and again whenever their eyes met and that dagger turned in his chest. All Nikandros had done was let his guard down around a man whose guard was always up, all he had been was weak. Just like he himself had, Nikandros had fallen into the trap Laurent had so masterfully laid out for him.

It hadn’t been Nikandros’s fault – it had been his. He should have known better. He should have heeded Nikandros’s warning this time. He should have known better than to let his guard down as well.

They could have made it to Bazal before or maybe by nightfall but Damen ordered the men to a halt and to make camp a short distance away from the city’s walls. Of course, he knew that King Torgeir’s scouts would have already spotted them and reported their approach to the palace. 

He knew that Torgeir knew he was coming. He knew that Torveld did. And Laurent. 

„I need you to keep me from killing him,” Damen said to Nikandros at the dying camp fire later that night after the men had retired to their tents and the two of them were the only ones left still up. 

„Torveld.”

Damen took a sip from his mug of wine, and their eyes met over its brim. Damen shook his head.

„No.”

„Damen—”

„Don’t worry,” Damen scoffed bitterly. „I won’t. After all, Akielos needs this alliance as well. And this alliance needs both Patras and Vere.”

„You are afraid,” said Nikandros slowly, as if he was realising only now what was going on in Damen’s mind. „You are afraid ride into Bazal. You are afraid to see... him. That is why you made us stop here tonight.”

Damen sighed and took another swallow from his wine. It tasted stale.

„I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t know how to do any of this.”

Damen’s gaze fell to his wrist, and he could see Nikandros’s eyes following his. 

„You’re still wearing it.”

The fire’s embers reflected in the scraped metal of the Akielon slave cuff, dancing in the darkness of the surrounding night.

A starburst banner.

„You should—”

„No,” said Damen, briefly covering the gold with his hand, and he tried to ignore the sharp pang in his chest that feeling it against his palm and fingers caused. „It stays.”

He rose and withdrew to his tent for the night. He would face Bazal tomorrow.

And Laurent.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one (but not unimportant) - the next chapter will be longer again! Thank you so much for reading this, you lovely people!!!

The sun had already risen when they rode into Bazal the following morning. The air was still brisk and clear with morning, though, and it made the grey stone walls of the citadel look almost white. Flags and banners were fluttering in the breeze, colorful and gay, bright heralds of impending festivities, welcoming King Damianos of Akielos and his closest advisor to the capital as King Torgeir’s guests of honor.

They rode through two rows of lined-up guards and dismounted their horses at the foot of the steps leading to the palace’s entrance. The horses were led away and taken care of by industrious stable boys, and Damen and his men were taken inside to meet their host, King Torgeir of Patras, and his brother, Prince Torveld, fifth in line to the throne. It would have been proper protocol for them to have met their guests outside, and it irritated Damen that they hadn’t. He cast a quick glance at Nikandros, who made a calming gesture with his hand. 

Nikandros was right, of course. This was not the place nor the time to be offended by small things like protocol. Damen took a deep breath. This was the time and place to focus and to keep his cool. He was going to need it.

King Torgeir’s councilors, who had received them at the stairs in the king’s stead, led them through a broad corridor. Damen didn’t allow his eyes to wander as he would have under normal circumstances – he just briefly scanned his surroundings, automatically cataloguing doors and windows, exits and entrances, hidden niches and potential hiding places. Apart from that, he kept his eyes to the front, staring at the back of their guide’s head, chin raised, and his hand on the hilt of his sword. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, and that wasn’t due to the fast pace of their ride from the camp to the city. His grip on his sword tightened. He was a king as well. He had an alliance to forge, a kingdom to protect.

He was ready for this.

Next to him Nikandros nodded subtly, and Damen squared his shoulders as the guide opened the twin wooden doors to the great hall. Damen walked across the marble floor with steady, determined steps, Nikandros just one step behind him, a calming shadow at the periphery of his vision.

There was a man sitting on a massive wooden throne, and there was another man standing next to him, one hand casually resting on the throne’s backrest. That second man Damen knew. It was Torveld, the king’s brother, who had once envied him when he had still been a slave in Vere. King Torgeir, Damen had never met. The resemblance with his younger brother was striking. King Torgeir commanded the room, his sheer presence speaking of power and stability.

They were formally announced, but Damen didn’t hear a single word the herald was saying. All he heard were the hollow sounds of his steps on the marble floor and the erratic the beating of his heart.

His eyes scanned the room for yellow hair but they came up empty. Damen’s stomach lurched. Laurent wasn’t there. 

When they reached the three steps leading up to the dais, they stopped.

„King Torgeir,” said Damen, his voice rough with the previous silence. 

„Welcome,” said Torgeir, and he nodded, a small smile playing on his face. „Welcome, King Damianos of Akielos, to the kingdom of Patras and to the city of Bazal. We are honored to receive such a distinguished guest. I trust your trip was safe?”

Damen nodded. Nikandros, standing one step beside him to his left, cleared his throat. 

Damen held Torgeir’s gaze and swallowed. He knew what protocol demanded of him but his chest, his throat and his lips still clawed around the words he was expected to speak, desperately fighting to hold them inside. It took almost everything he had to force them out.

„We thank you, King Torgeir, for the welcoming reception – and for the invitation on behalves of your brother, His Royal Highness, Prince Torveld, and his betrothed—” Damen swallowed again, his tongue heavy as lead in his mouth. „His Royal Highness, Prince Laurent of Vere. Akielos wishes them both and their kingdoms a future blessed with plenty.”

Behind him, he could hear Nikandros release a long, shaky breath he must have been holding for the longest time. Damen’s eyes moved from Torgeir to his brother when Torgeir nodded. Torveld looked good. Strong and steadfast, and there was a distant glitter in his eyes that spoke of ownership and pride. Damen wanted to strangle him.

„The wedding ceremony will take place first thing tomorrow morning,” Torgeir announced, and Damen could feel a distinct and very faint glimmer of relief and of hope flaring up inside of him. They weren’t married yet, he told himself as he had done ever since he had received the news of their engagement. This could still be undone. There was still time. „Prince Laurent insisted we wait. He insisted Akielos would be here to witness the forging of the union, so there would be no doubt about its… strategic importance.”

The glimmer died almost as soon as it had been born. All that was left now was darkness.

„Prince Torveld,” Damen continued after a short pause. It took him unprecedented effort to form clear thoughts, let alone to put them into words. He was glad that Nikandros had made him practice those words on their journey, more than once. „Accept Akielos’s official as well as our personal well-wishes on your and the Prince’s betrothal.”

Torveld nodded as well, watching Damen closely, and the king rose. He walked down the steps of the dais with slow, measured steps.

„Come, come, friends,” said Torgeir, reaching out and placing his hand on Damen’s shoulder. „Yes, we do have urgent matters to attend, but we mustn’t forget the laws of courtesy and hospitality. Svenfur here will show you to your chambers where you can bathe and—”

„King Torgeir,” Damen interrupted, against every law of protocol. „We’ve travelled a long way from Ios. We wish to be briefed on the situation and the state of things as soon as possible. If the threat from Vask has intensified, a military counter-force must be formed before it can come to the worst—”

Torgeir regarded Damen for a moment before he nodded once more. 

„I understand.” He paused. „There has been another series of attacks in the borderlands last night. Veretian troops have already been set in motion. A battalion will secure—”

„Allow me,” a calm, aloof voice in Damen’s back cut in, causing Damen’s blood to freeze in his veins and a distinct shiver to run down his spine. He knew that voice, he’d know it in his sleep. He had come to know that voice better than his own. „Allow me to brief the king of Akielos on the strategic aspects concerning _my_ army myself.”

_My army. Not ours. Two kingdoms once more._

Damen’s body had turned to ice, and his mouth was impossibly dry. He forced himself to turn around and face the man who had spoken those words.

„Prince—” He had to swallow again at the sight before him. Laurent looked devastating. He was dressed head to toe in Veretian garments, every lace immaculately in place, and his skin was so white his eyes seemed to be bottomless pools in freshly fallen snow. He was beautiful. „Prince Laurent of Vere,” Damen finished what he had been meaning to say, his mind struggling around the words.

Laurent’s chin rose almost imperceptibly, and Damen could feel his face begin to burn under Laurent’s scrutinizing gaze. _So, this is how it’s going to be from now on,_ Damen thought. _Back to where we started. No. Not back. Worse._

„King Damianos,” said Laurent, acknowledging Damen’s greeting with no more than a curt nod. 

Damen could feel Nikandros shift beside him, and he willed himself not to reach for the hilt of his sword. 

„Shall we?” Laurent lifted his arm and gestured towards the doors to show them the way, and that was when Damen saw it. He could feel all color draining from his face.

Laurent’s wrist was bare.

He was no longer wearing the cuff.


	6. Chapter 6

„Laurent.”

The words were out of Damen’s mouth before he could even form a clear thought, and his head snapped up again. He had grabbed Laurent’s arm, he realised, his fingers digging into the cloth of Laurent’s sleeve and into the taut muscles beneath. „Laurent. What have you done?”

Laurent held his gaze and held his gaze and held his gaze until Damen finally let go of his arm. There was nothing in Laurent’s eyes, just a bottomless depth of ice. Time and space around them seemed to have ceased to exist, everyone else in the room, Torgeir, Torveld, Nikandros, servants, guards, seemed to have vanished into the darkness threatening to swallow them. 

„What I should have done long ago,” said Laurent after a long pause, his voice as sharp as a newly forged dagger. „I undid what I should never have allowed to be done in the first place.”

All Damen could do was stand and stare, first into Laurent’s eyes, then at Laurent’s cuff-less wrist, then back into his eyes again. He didn’t understand, and in that moment, he got a grasp of what Laurent had meant when he had said that he couldn’t _think_. He wondered how many times he already had felt as if he’d never been in so much pain before – and how many times it would happen in the future.

„I—”

„Vere has vowed to enter an alliance with Patras,” said Laurent calmly, his eyes never leaving Damen’s. „It would be unbecoming to wear another kingdom’s token.”

_Kingdom. Not king._

„You are right, Prince Laurent.” Damen pressed the words from the impossible tightness of his chest and through the cutting pain in his throat. „It would be.”

Again, there was no reaction in Laurent’s eyes except for maybe the ice hardening a little more.

„It will be an alliance of _three_ kingdoms now.” Torgeir closed the distance with two quick steps and placed his hands on both Damen’s and Laurent’s shoulders. „Come with me, my brothers,” he encouraged, his smile more than a little forced. „Come with me. Let us stick our heads together and forge this union as long as the iron is hot.”

_I am not your brother,_ Damen thought. _Though I would give everything I am to be him right now._

*****

Their final plan was astonishingly simple. Throw their newly formed alliance in Vask’s way, a triple army, thousands and thousands of soldiers unified under a triple banner, and give whatever threat the currently leading factions of Vask were sending their way, any of their three kingdom’s ways, a run for its money. 

After hours and hours of strategic planning, they had agreed on sending envoys to Vask first, a gesture to preserve protocol rather than an attempt to keep the peace. Everyone, the rulers of the three kingdoms and their generals, even the bannermen agreed that such an attempt would be futile. Whoever had seized the power and formed a coalition of clans in Vask wasn’t going to heed any such attempt.

Maps were studied, terrains and ways of attack suggested, discussed, dismissed and finally agreed upon. Both King Torgeir and Prince Torveld were seasoned veterans, their knowledge of war stemming from many won battles. Nikandros weighed in whenever Damen needed him to, and Laurent, Laurent was as sly and cunning as ever. He was meticulous about understanding the territory, and the memories his questions brought back tugged at Damen’s heart like dull shackles. He remembered the late evenings and long nights spent bent over a table in a Veretian tent, the dying noises of the camp fading around them, the light of the candle, then – the darkness. 

Torveld kept close to Laurent, never leaving his side, and more than once Damen observed how Torveld’s presence was what calmed Laurent and what helped him clear his mind and focus on what lay ahead. A hand on Laurent’s shoulder, a light touch of his arm, a goblet of water handed to him exactly when he needed it. 

Damen watched Laurent take an absentminded sip from the goblet and the tenderness in Torveld’s eyes when he did. He realised that Laurent felt safe and even something akin to comfortable around Torveld, and what should have been of solace to him caused his blood to boil with unadulterated rage. He wanted to kill Torveld, even though he knew it was not his fault. He longed to run his sword through him and see him fall to the ground like freshly cut grain, even though he knew no fault lie with him. Keeping his cool in those moments nearly seemed impossible to him, and Laurent’s softening features and small smile when Torveld took the goblet from his had again, his brief nod and Torveld’s answering one weren’t doing anything to reign himself in either. In the end, it was Nikandros who held him back, Nikandros who addressed him with a suggestion on how to proceed in the event of a Vaskian advance on Delpha from the North, from the hills.

A couple of times, Damen’s and Laurent’s eyes met across the table, and those moments felt like punches in Damen’s gut. 

_Laurent,_ he wanted to say, and he had to bite his lips to keep the words at bay. _Laurent, what have you done?_

*****

Damen knew where he would find Laurent, later, when the planning was done and after the feast of meat and bread and wine and fruit Torgeir had served in their honor had come to a close.

Laurent had been watching him all night, Damen had noticed, his eyes guarded and his face expressionless, and whenever Damen had looked at him in return, he had directed his attention elsewhere, feigning indifference.

From the shadows in the back of the stables he watched Laurent enter and calmly approach the horse that had been readied for him. A stable boy lurked in another dark corner, staring at Laurent with wide, frightened eyes. The boy hadn’t seen Damen enter a few moments before as he had been busy leading Laurent’s horse out of its box, and he had withdrawn from vision as soon as Laurent had arrived.

Laurent’s steps were measured, his movements graceful, and his hair stood out against the dimness of the stables and the night, the few torches casting a golden sheen around his head. He walked up to the horse, a beautiful red mare, and reached out to greet her, letting her smell his fingers. He was gloveless, which took Damen by surprise.

Laurent gently caressed the mare’s nostrils for a few moments before he brought his other hand up to stroke her throat. He muttered something, low, calming words Damen couldn’t understand from where he was standing, still hidden from Laurent’s view in the shadows. 

Damen watched Laurent take a step to the side and diligently check the saddle and the bridle. His heart skipped a beat when Laurent leant forward and buried his nose against the mare’s throat, close to the mane, inhaling deeply. He knew exactly how it felt when Laurent did that, and he couldn’t believe that he honestly felt jealous of a horse.

After a few moments, Laurent lifted his head again and straightened his shoulders.

„Have you come here to attack me from behind my back?”

Laurent’s voice cut through the night like an axe cut through bone. Damen flinched.

He stepped out of the shadows and into the torch light.

„Laurent,” said Damen, fighting the urge to reach out and touch. „Please, don’t do this.” He was still prepared to forgive Laurent all that had happened, he realized, slightly shocked. He had said _Please_. He shouldn’t have said _Please_. He should have smashed his fist into Laurent’s face and he should have left him lying there, on the stable’s floor. Yet, he found that he still was willing to let the past go, if it only helped him win Laurent back.

„Go for a ride at night?” Laurent asked, checking the reigns. „But I often ride out alone at night.”

„I didn’t mean that,” said Damen, taking a small step towards Laurent. „I meant this. Don’t do this. Don’t… Don’t marry Torveld.”

He could see how Laurent stilled and took a small breath. Then Laurent turned around, and their eyes met.

„I know what you meant,” said Laurent. „I won’t go back on my word. Torveld and I will be married in the morning.”

„Laurent, you—”

„And I do not intend to discuss it, especially not with you. I thought I had made that clear.”

„You don’t have to do it,” Damen tried again, knowing full well that the pleading tone that had crept into his voice was not going to work to his advantage. He was unable to keep it in check nevertheless. „This alliance can be forged withou—”

„You are assuming that we haven’t already.”

Damen froze. He knew that Torveld had always wanted Laurent, and he also knew that Laurent would do anything to achieve his goals. Laurent had to want something as well, he had to be getting something out of this as well.

„You... you wouldn’t,” said Damen, despite his better knowledge. 

„Wouldn’t I?” Laurent turned around after that and mounted his horse. Looking down at Damen, he raised his eyebrows. „I suggest you discuss that with Nikandros.” He clicked his tongue and pushed his heels into the mare’s flanks. 

In another life, Laurent had wanted Delpha.

Damen watched him ride out of the stables and disappear into the night. He remained standing there for a long time after Laurent had departed, motionless and numb, the cold of the night creeping into his garments and into his bones unnoticed. It took him a long time, too long a time, to finally move again. There was someone he needed to speak to. There was one thing he still needed to say.

*****

Torveld was sitting on the steps leading up to the throne when Damen entered the great hall. He was alone, his elbows on his knees and his head hanging between his shoulders. When Damen approached him, he looked up. Their eyes locked for a moment, then Torveld looked away.

„Have you come to talk me out of it?”

Damen shook his head. „I’ve come to talk to you about the alliance.”

Torveld frowned. „What do you mean? It is settled. Once the Prince and I are married—”

„I have one more request,” Damen interrupted, steeling himself. „Concerning the conditions. I have one more.”

Torveld’s eyes narrowed. „Request? What condition? Why are you bringing this up now? Shouldn’t my brother and the Prince be present—”

„It’s—” _Personal. Private. Nothing I should even talk about, least of all to you._ Damen hesitated. „It is not an official condition. It concerns… the Prince.”

Torveld’s head tilted in slight bewilderment. „Speak.”

„Give me your word that you will honor my request, and the allegiance is made.”

Torveld nodded. „Speak,” he said again.

Damen took a deep breath. 

„Be... kind to him.”

Torveld just looked at him, and he kept looking at him as if he didn’t really remember who Damen was.

„He would probably have me tied to the cross if he knew I would say this, or even speak with you, but...” Damen’s voice trailed off. He felt more exhausted than after hours and hours of combat. He ran his palm over his eyes and exhaled shakily. „Just... just be kind to him. He deserves it.”

„You love him,” said Torveld slowly.

„I owe my kingdom to him.”

Once more, Torveld nodded, still holding Damen’s gaze. 

This time, Damen looked away first.

„I understand,” said Torveld after a short pause and rose to his feet. „I would ask your forgiveness,” he added, placing a hand on Damen’s upper arm. „King Damianos.”

„There is nothing to forgive,” said Damen and mirrored Torveld’s gesture. „The alliance is made.”

*****

After two or three hours of turning sleeplessly in his bed, Damen rose and dressed again. He could change into more formal clothing later, there would be enough time before the ceremony would start, but now, he felt the need to go for a ride just like Laurent had earlier that night. 

The air was crisp when he stepped outside the palace, no hint of dawn visible in the skies yet. Shreds of clouds raced over the star sprinkled canvass of the darkest Veretian blue, obscuring the moon every now and then, casting fleeting shadows on the stone floor of the courtyard as Damen crossed it on his way to the stables. If no stable boy was available, he would prepare a horse himself, he decided. He didn’t feel like searching the barracks for help he didn’t really need.

Entering the stables, Damen frowned. The young stable boy who had been lurking in the shadows during his earlier conversation with Laurent was pacing the floor between the boxes, his head shooting up when he heard Damen approach.

„Oh,” he said, and his voice sounded small and lost. „It’s you.”

Damen stopped, and even in the dim light of the torches he could see the boy blush. He watched how the boy covered his mouth with his hand and took a step backwards.

„I mean—” The boy rubbed his hands against his legs and took another step backwards. „I beg pardon, Your High—I mean, Exalted.”

„What is wrong,” asked Damen, trying to keep his voice soft and his features open. A sinking feeling began to form deep inside of him when the boy’s eyes widened and he took another small step backwards. „You can tell me.”

„The Prince—” The boy choked and he had to try three times before he was able to push the words past his lips. „The Prince hasn’t returned yet. From his ride.”

„Laurent?”

The boy nodded. „I don’t know—”

„How long did he say he’d be?” Damen inquired, his brows frowning. He knew that, sometimes, Laurent’s night-time rides could last quite a while.

„He didn’t say,” said the boy. „He just told me to wait up for his return so I could take care of his horse when he came back.”

„Hm,” Damen murmured, letting his eyes wander along the row of boxes. „Let’s wait for him together, then.”

The boy took a step forward, and his eyes darted to one of the feeding crates lined up against the walls between the boxes.

„A good idea,” said Damen and sat down on the crate, placing his hand on the wooden lid next to him. „Come. Sit with me.”

The boy hesitated, so Damen put on a small smile.

„I don’t bite.”

Damen watched the boy slowly edge closer and finally sit down on the crate by is side.

„I’ve never sat with a King,” the boy murmured, casting a quick glance at Damen’s face, blushing. Then he cast his eyes to the floor again. „I wish he were back already,” he whispered, and Damen’s chest constricted. He wished that, too.

„He’s a good rider,” said Damen, and nodded in encouragement. „A very good rider. I am sure he’ll be back soon. He’s a good rider,” he said again, listening to the sound of his own words. „An excellent one, as a matter of fact. One of the best I’ve ever seen. He once won the _okton_ without ever having ridden it before. Do you know what the _okton_ is?” Damen asked when the boy looked up again and stared at him with wide, dark eyes.

The boy shook his head, too scared and too in awe to speak.

„Well,” Damen started, straightening his back. „The _okton_ is one of the most challenging and dangerous sports ever invented by men,” he said and watched how the boy’s eyes widened even more. „Some even say it wasn’t even invented by men, but by the heroes of old.” He proceeded to describe the _okton_ to the boy, to explain the rules and, after that, to relate the tale of how Laurent had won the _okton_ only such a short time ago. It already sounded like a legend of old. When he finished his tale, the boy’s mouth stood agape, and he was a little out of breath.

Still no sign of Laurent. 

With a frown on his face, Damen realised that he’d talked not just to calm the boy but also to calm himself. And from one moment to the next, his heartbeat doubled. 

„Why hasn’t he come back yet?” This time, the boy’s question was a real one.

„I don’t know,” Damen murmured. „I—”

„I don’t like this,” the boy whispered, and Damen’s stomach sank. „I don’t like this at all. He should have come back by now.”

„I’m going to—” Just as Damen had begun to raise, he heard something. The clatter of hooves. Damen exhaled sharply, a wave of relief washing over him. That had to be—

The horse trotting around the corner and into the stable was rider-less.

The boy let out a little yelp, and Damen gasped. 

„Alert the stable master,” Damen instructed, reaching for the mare’s reigns. „Alert the king and his brother. Have the palace sound the alarm bells and form a search party.” Swiftly, Damen mounted the horse and plucked one of the torches from its bracket. „I’ll will look for him as well.”

*****

When Laurent hadn’t been found after a couple of hours of intensive search with horses, men and hounds, Torveld as white as a sheet, and Torgeir barking orders left and right, Damen returned to the stables to change horses. He needed a fresh one if he wanted to keep on searching.

The stable boy was still there, running back and forth between the stable, the horses and the riders. When he saw Damen, he froze and virtually crumbled in front of Damen’s eyes.

„Forgive me, Exalted,” he murmured, his eyes downcast, when Damen approached. 

„Forgive you for what?” Damen’s hand trembled as he reached out and touched the boy’s chin. „What do you mean?”

„For losing him.” 

Damen could feel the boy’s skin, cold and sticky against his fingertips, and his breathing erratic, hitching. 

„You—Why are you saying this?” Damen inquired. „Why are you saying this to me?”

„Because he’s yours, Exalted. Isn’t he?”

The boy looked up, his eyes dark and glistening. When they found Damen’s, Damen’s heart skipped a beat. 

„It isn’t your fault,” said Damen, his voice rough and raw. „We’ll find him.”

The boy nodded, and Damen let go of his chin. 

„I’ll find him. I promise.”

He mounted the fresh horse the stable master had readied for him and rode off in the direction he had seen Laurent disappear into the night several hours before.


	7. Chapter 7

Laurent was kneeling in front of him, and his hands were in Laurent’s hair, his fingers tingling with the sensation of soft golden strands running through them, and his body was pulsing with something else entirely, something so intense it was filling him to the brim, permanently striving to overflow.

Damen loved how Laurent knelt for him now, only the second time. He loved it almost as much as he loved being on his knees for Laurent’s pleasure. Even after the one time Laurent had taken him in his mouth, Damen had not expected that Laurent would be that masterful with his lips and his tongue in practice as he was in theory. He threw his head back and moaned, savoring the vibrations of Laurent’s encouraging hum in every fiber of his being.

He was going to come. Laurent was going to make him come in his mouth, he was going to let Damen do that, and that thought alone was intoxicating.

Laurent teased him relentlessly, his tongue and his delicate and incredibly skillful fingers doing their worst pushing him further and further towards the edge.

He was going to come. He was going to come soon.

His eyes opened and he looked down at the beautiful, beautiful man kneeling in front of him – just as Laurent tilted his head exactly the right way and let his eyelids flutter open. Clear blue eyes sparkled behind pale golden lashes. Damen’s stomach dropped.

He was going to—

„The picture you make.”

It didn’t make any sense, the voice in his ears didn’t make any sense. The words did, at least in a way, but the voice itself didn’t. It didn’t fit.

„Are you going to come?”

Slowly, his eyes fluttered open. The light wasn’t right either, it was far too dim around him all of a sudden. This wasn’t the summer palace’s bed chamber, and it was his hand that was wrapped around his cock, not Laurent’s lips, just his fingers, already slick with clear fluid, and he was slowly and deliberately fucking into his own fist.

His whole body was vibrating on the edge of climax.

„I think you are. I think you are so close. I really think you are going to come.”

Damen slowly raised his head, the movement of his hand stilling and his cock swelling against his palm.

The voice was coming from behind a barred iron gate, and it was the voice of a woman.

„Or maybe not.”

He was so close he could taste it, and for one breathless moment he thought he really was going to spill himself, but his body held back. He was so hard it hurt.

„What a waste,” the voice mocked dreamily as Damen let go of his cock, closing his hand into a fist.

Gradually, Damen’s eyes adjusted to the dimness, and the shape of a body became more focused behind the bars. Damen couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

„You always looked so beautiful when you—”

„Jokaste.”

He tried to scramble to his knees, but another wave of arousal washed over him, drawing a low moan from his lips. When it subsided a little, he propped himself up as much as he dared, squeezing his eyes shut against the onslaught of physical pleasure and need that threatened to claim him entirely. He needed to come. Soon.

„Look at the state you are in,” said Jokaste, her voice as soft and as sweet as a lullaby. „So close. So desperate. So beautiful.”

Damen groaned. He was dying to touch himself again, yearning for release, but he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of seeing him fall apart, not as long as he had anything left in him to hold against it. All his willpower was barely enough to keep his hand where it was now, on his thigh, his fingers digging into his taut, trembling muscles.

„He’s worse, though,” she said and nodded to her left. „Or he will be, once it fully takes effect.”

Damen turned his head. Clad in nothing but a chiton, Laurent lay on a low cot, barefoot, and a sheen of sweat was already covering his flushed skin. They must have taken off the clothes he had been wearing when he’d left for his ride at some point of time after they’d captured him, Damen thought, and then they must have dressed him in this.

„We’ve administered a _slightly_ higher dosage to him,” said Jokaste. „Just to be sure. He has so much more control than you do.”

Laurent’s face contorted slightly, as if he was in pain, and his lips opened a little as his hand found its way between his legs.

Fury welled up inside of Damen, white hot fury, and it even made him unaware of his own ever-building arousal for a moment.

„What have you—" 

„Do you think he’s going to beg?” She grabbed hold of two of the gate’s bars and closed her fingers around them, leaning forward a little. „Has he ever begged before? You, I mean? For... it?”

„Don’t do this to him,” Damen ground out, clenching his jaws against a new onslaught of arousal. „Get him out of here. Don’t—”

„But it’s not me who’s going to do this to him,” Jokaste interrupted. „It’s going to be you.”

She laughed, a soft, carefree laugh, when Damen’s eyes squeezed shut once more and his cock twitched helplessly between his legs.

„No. I’d rather die than—”

„No, you wouldn’t. Because that would mean the same for him.”

Damen’s eyes followed hers back to where Laurent was lying.

„How long do you think you’ll be able to wait?” She inclined her head as if to take an even closer look at Laurent. A small moan came from the cot and it went straight to Damen’s groin. „Do you think he will still be asleep?”

„Get him out of here,” Damen whispered. „Please, just—I’ll do anything. Just get him out of here.”

„No,” she said, shaking her head. „I don’t think so. But—” She reached into a fold of her clothing. „I’ll be generous and let you have this.” With an elegant swing of her arm she tossed something through the bars. „Since you asked so nicely. Don’t be too decadent with it, though. This is going to last a while. Oh,” she added after a short pause, as if she had just thought of it. „In case you were wondering what this is all about… I’ll let you know. You wanted him. You wanted to share your bed and your throne with him. So, you simply discarded me. You forgot about me once you met him and—You left me on the run and did nothing to save me or my child. You ruined me, so I’m going to return the favor. Only, I will ruin him. And Vere. Patras can have Vere. Torgeir has always wanted it. Just like you... You wanted _him_ so much. Well, you can have him now.” She turned on her heels and left.

„You’re destroying nations because I don’t want to fuck you anymore?” Damen yelled after her, but she didn’t stop or turn around again. „You’d drown the world in war because you’re jealous?”

The thing she had tossed at him through the bars was a stoppered phial and it rolled over the floor of the cell towards the cot. The cot where Laurent lay, Laurent, whose hand had wormed underneath the chiton and was moving there in a slow, agonizing rhythm. 

Laurent was flushed, and as Damen’s eyes wandered over Laurent’s body, he arched his back a little and moaned again.

Damen cursed under his breath. He had probably never seen anything more tempting, and he already knew that it would probably cost him more than what he was able to give to resist that temptation.

The drug was potent, and the state he already was in...

Maybe if he made himself come now, maybe then the desire would recede a little and he could think a little more clearly again. Biting his lips, he closed his fingers around his cock and began to stroke. It didn’t take long. He had been so wound up already, so painfully aroused it only took a few strokes.

His climax was harsh and violent, blinding his senses for a moment, and he spent himself in hot white strands all over his thighs and fingers. It felt so good it made him dizzy, yet the all-consuming desire didn’t recede. 

Laurent stirred. He must have made a sound when he had come, Damen thought, even though he had tried his best to remain silent. Wiping the back of his hand against his chiton, he got up. His knees felt weak, and he was already getting hard again. 

Carefully, he walked over to the cot and leaned down. Laurent had rolled onto his side, facing away from him and towards the cell’s stone wall. His hand was still moving, and he let out a little gasp of pleasure. His eyelids fluttered subtly, and his lashes danced over his rosy cheeks.

The desire inside of Damen surged when a small noise fell from Laurent’s mouth, invisible to Damen but far from unnoticed. Something between a sigh and one of those little surprised gasps that Damen had come to treasure so much. 

Laurent shivered in reaction to his own touch, and Damen’s hand reached out of its own accord.

Just before it made contact with the skin of Laurent’s arm, Damen reigned himself in. He longed for that touch, his fingers longed for that touch, for that contact, and for a moment Damen felt his body threatening to give in, to take, just to take. It would be so simple like this, just the way Laurent liked it, simple. It would be so easy to just lay down and to slot up behind Laurent, to position himself right there and to—

No. Jokaste couldn’t have been right. He couldn’t. 

Damen bit his cheeks until he tasted blood. His hands curled into fists, and he shook his head as if to shake himself from a dream. He wouldn’t.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, his cock desperately straining for friction, he unclenched his hands. Not while Laurent was still asleep. Not like this. No.

Once more, he reached out, tracing his fingertips over Laurent’s skin ever so gently, once, just once. He was almost convinced that he was allowed a small touch like that when his fingers trailed up Laurent’s arm again.

_No. Not like this._

He gently lay his hand on Laurent’s shoulder and shook.

„Laurent,” he murmured, and then again, a little louder: „Laurent.”

Laurent stirred. 

„Laurent. You have to wake up.”

Moving away when Laurent began to turn around, still mostly asleep and so deliciously warm and flushed, so beautifully panting, was the hardest thing Damen ever had had to do.

_Never like this._

Damen bolted. When Laurent’s eyes fluttered open, Damen just bolted. Even though he was painfully hard again, even though it would have been so, so easy, he fled.

When Laurent awoke, when his gaze became focused, when he carefully took in and began to understand his surroundings, when his gaze finally settled on Damen, Damen was already back on the other side of the cell, as far away from the bed as he could possibly get. His hand had found its way to his cock again, and he was unable to keep it from moving. The pleasure was building again, and he once more felt the overwhelming need to come. 

„What—,” Laurent muttered, his voice still heavy with sleep and already filled with dizzying arousal, „You—”

Another deep breath before Damen spoke. He was throbbing again already, so soon so close again, release so close yet so impossible to reach.

„You’ve been drugged.” He had to be quick here, he had to fill Laurent in while they were both still able to make decisions. He couldn’t help but laugh drily, knowing full well that there wasn’t much left to be decided, not with the drug working its way into their systems with every breath they took and every move they made.

„It’s Jokaste,” said Damen, wincing when his desire surged again. He had to get this across to Laurent somehow before— He tore his hand away from his cock in an unimaginable act of willpower.

Laurent moaned, fucking into his own fist slow and deliberate. A dark shade of red spread over Laurent’s face the moment he realised what he was doing.

„It’s going to get worse,” said Damen, unable to stop his fingers from wrapping around his cock once more. „I’m not going to— I won’t—”

Laurent’s eyes darted around the cell, taking in their surroundings, still analyzing their situation despite his own obviously growing need.

„What is this,” Laurent asked, propping himself up on his elbow, still a little groggy with sleep. „What did she give me? Is it—"

„We don’t have much time,” said Damen, willing himself to stop bringing himself further to the brink. „Before it takes full effect. Soon, we won’t be able to stop this.” He winced again at the sensation of his cock swelling against his fingers. „I won’t—I’ll try not to, I swear. Please… please forgive me.”

Laurent’s eyes closed tightly, and his head snapped back. Damen’s eyes were glued to Laurent’s cock fucking into his fist, its pace gradually accelerating. 

„Stay back,” Laurent hissed, nearing the peak. „Don’t—"

Damen swore. It hurt, it physically hurt to see Laurent like this, so close, so insanely aroused, so desperate. Any moment now Laurent would reach the edge and fall. 

„Laurent,” Damen moaned.

„Don’t—I—”

Laurent was panting by now, his entire body straining towards release, a release it was desperately chasing but unable to reach. With a jolt of panic Damen realised that Laurent wouldn’t be able to come like that. There were only rumors about what happened with men under the influence of the drug who didn’t or couldn’t find completion, the songs and the Akielon myths were only very vague about that, really, so Damen wasn’t sure how dangerous it really was. But one thing was certain, Laurent needed to come. 

Summoning all his senses in an enormous act of strength and control, Damen stood up again and with a few steps he was at Laurent’s cot.

„Get up,” he said, reaching for Laurent’s arm. The skin he touched was so hot and so soft it nearly brought him to his knees. „Get up now.”

Laurent’s body followed the command of Damen’s grip as if in a trance, and when Laurent stood before him, his eyes were wide and his pupils dilated and out of focus. 

Damen let go of Laurent’s arm. „Close your eyes,” he said, brushing a stray strand of hair from Laurent’s cheek, Laurent’s skin sticky beneath his fingers. He was surprised at how quickly Laurent obeyed.

„We’re back in Arles,” Damen murmured, dying to brush his lips again Laurent’s but too scared of what he might do if he actually followed through with it. „We’re in the baths, but you don’t know who I really am. You think I’m an Akielon slave, sent to you as a personal gift from the new King of Akielos. I’m washing you, and you’re just very aroused. You’re in the mood for a quick fuck, you know it won’t take long, and you have your slave right here at your disposal, you have your slave right here to serve you.“ He swallowed heavily, the image he was conjuring up to help Laurent through this whole mess increasing his own desire by a hundredfold. Biting back the moan that was trying to slip past his lips was an almost impossible effort. „You order me to my knees.”

Against all hope, Damen hoped that Laurent would follow his lead, would take up the clue and let Damen bring him off. He waited. One deep breath, and then another. Laurent’s eyes remained closed, his lips pressed together so tightly they had become a thin white line. The veins in his throat were pulsing frantically and his body was reverberating with pent up need. Then he gasped, and from the corner of his eyes Damen could see how his hands balled into fists.

„Kneel,” Laurent finally whispered, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut tight.

Damen did as he was told.

„Tell me what to do.”

 _Please let him do this,_ Damen thought. _Please, please let him do this._

„Su—” Laurent’s breath hitched, his cock, already impossibly hard, twitched in front of Damen’s eyes. „Take me in your mouth. Suck my cock.”

„Yes,” said Damen, trying to sound at least a little obedient and demure. „Your Highness.”

„Make it quick,” Laurent added, his voice torn between a rejection and a breathless plead. „I—I need to come.”

Damen nodded, even though Laurent couldn’t see it. He grabbed hold of Laurent’s cock and opened his mouth. There was no finesse in what he did, no teasing and no tenderness, just pure efficiency. Laurent was so close.

„I—”

„Let go,” Damen pleaded before he took Laurent into his mouth again. _Please let go._

„I can’t,” Laurent moaned, desperation lacing his words. „I don’t know how. I—”

Damen hummed around Laurent’s cock. His lips hurt, and saliva was dripping from the corners of his mouth. He dimly noticed that he had taken himself in hand again and was stroking himself furiously, teetering on the brink of climax.

Then, all of a sudden, Laurent turned completely rigid, his cock swelling in Damen’s mouth and his hand fisting into Damen’s hair. Damen froze as well. Seconds passed. 

Laurent was holding his breath, and his fist in Damen’s hair tightened. Then he let out a single hitching breath, a helpless gasp, almost a sob – and he finally came, emptying himself into Damen’s mouth.

Tasting Laurent’s release on his tongue made Damen spend himself as well, again, all over his thighs and fingers. He let Laurent’s cock slip from his mouth, and swallowed, the last waves of his own climax still washing over him.

Laurent took a step backwards. He was still hard.

Damen tried to clear his foggy mind. Rising to his feet, he rubbed his hands against his legs.

„I’m so sorry,” he murmured, trying to avoid looking at Laurent. Post-coital Laurent seemed to be more than he could take right now. 

„Is it over?” Laurent sounded exhausted and very, very young.

Damen shook his head. „No. She said it would last ‚a while’, so I suppose...”

Laurent cursed. 

„We can get through this,” said Damen. „It will wear off, eventually.”

Laurent averted his gaze as well when Damen tried to catch his eyes. 

„It—”

Laurent’s breathing had already started to speed up again, Damen noticed. „I promise, we can get through this. We will. And I—we’ll never talk about it. To anyone,” he added after a moment’s pause. „After.”

„How can you—”

„I want you,” Damen interrupted, hating himself for every word he spoke even though every word he spoke was true. „I never stopped wanting you. I will never forgive myself that I won’t be able to keep myself from doing this to you, but…” Damen fell silent. His hands were aching to touch Laurent, his whole body was wired with the most intense arousal he had ever felt, and it ached for Laurent more than it ever had. 

„Fuck me,” Laurent whispered, closing his eyes. He had blushed furiously, and he was pressing the heel of his hand against the base of his swollen cock. „I’m in the mood for a quick fuck, so... fuck me.”

Damen nodded. He needed it, too. He needed to be inside Laurent, he needed to fuck into that tight heat, he needed to fuck into Laurent hard and fast until he wouldn’t be able to hold back anymore. He needed to come again, badly, and he needed to come again soon. He was so aroused and so close it hurt.

Laurent turned around and braced himself against the wall with one hand, already stroking his cock again with the other. 

Damen’s mind flew back to their last time together at the summer palace, and he moaned. If he wasn’t careful, he’d spill before he was even inside. 

He picked up the phial and poured some of the oil into his palm, slicking himself up quickly and efficiently. His oily fingers felt tantalizingly good on his overheated skin, far too good. 

Laurent was panting, his hand moving frantically up and down his own cock, and he cursed under his breath. 

„Do it.”

Closing the distance between them, Damen reached out and brought his hand between Laurent’s cheeks.

„Spread your legs,” he murmured as he ran his fingers along Laurent’s cleft.

„Don’t do that,” Laurent hissed, but his body obeyed Damen’s command. „Just… fuck me.”

„I’m not going to fuck you unprepared,” Damen moaned as he pushed one finger into Laurent, drawing a sharp breath from his lungs. He withdrew his finger again and pushed back in with two. „I’m not going to hurt you any more than I nee—”

„It needs to hurt,” Laurent moaned, pushing back against Damen’s hand. „I need it to hurt.”

Laurent’s muscles tightened around Damen’s fingers, and when they loosened again, Damen withdrew and positioned himself.

„I know.”

Laurent opened up to him slowly, his body impossibly tight. Damen could feel that Laurent was holding his breath, and he realised that he was holding his as well. 

Laurent was as tight and as hot as Damen remembered, and entering this tight heat became his entire world. He prayed that he would be able to keep himself in check, even though he already knew that he wouldn’t. That was not how the drug worked, not how it was designed to work. It was designed to drive them out of their minds with need.

„Fuck me,” Laurent moaned when Damen was fully sheathed. „I—I need—”

Damen bit his lips. He grabbed hold of Laurent’s hips and began to fuck him rough and hard, his ever-growing need and the small noises Laurent kept making driving him, driving him with short, shaky thrusts towards an inevitable climax. 

Laurent threw his head back and came, his semen spilling over his fingers and thighs, his hand stroking himself all the way through it, his muscles rhythmically tightening around Damen’s cock, pushing him over the edge as well.

Damen stilled. His cock swelled and he emptied himself deep inside of Laurent, his eyes blinded by the force of his release, his knees weak and his muscles trembling. It went on wave after wave, his fingers digging into Laurent’s hips, his come pulsing from his cock and his heart beating so fast it felt as if it was about to burst.

When it was finally over, he rested his forehead against the nape of Laurent’s neck for a moment and closed his eyes. 

„Why does this feel so good?” Laurent muttered, still trying to catch his breath, his hand still stroking himself slowly. „Why—” Laurent’s breathing hitched, and Damen could feel how Laurent came again, unable to stop the inevitable, his body tightening around Damen once more. 

Damen held Laurent while he came, and when he was finished, he pulled out. 

He turned around and leaned against the wall next to Laurent.

„Let’s try and rest a little,” he murmured, and from the corner of his eyes he could see how Laurent nodded. „We—Soon we will have to—”

„I know,” Laurent whispered and turned around as well. He slid down the wall and once he sat on the floor of the cell, his legs fell open a little. „It’s already starting again.”

*****

When the effect of the drug finally began to lessen, they were lying on the floor, their limbs entwined, their bodies sticky with sweat and come. Damen had lost count of how often they had spilled themselves, by the use of their bodies, their mouths, their hands. When they had been too exhausted to fuck, Damen had just pulled Laurent on top of him, so they could get each other off at least like this, rutting against each other, their leaking cocks trapped between their bodies, Laurent begging him to make him come again, to finish him off, to make it stop. 

Laurent was shivering, the last ripples of his most recent climax still running through him. His face was buried against Damen’s shoulder, his breath hot against Damen’s oversensitive skin. 

When Laurent lifted his head and looked up, his face was flushed and sticky, and his lips were swollen a dark red from biting them. The hint of a glitter returning to his eyes made Damen’s heart miss a beat.

He swallowed. Laurent was going to kiss him. 

„I think—” Laurent whispered, locking eyes with Damen. „I think it’s getting better.” He blinked.

Damen nodded and begun to shift, but he froze again when Laurent’s fingers dug into his arms. 

„No—Don’t move just yet,” Laurent murmured. „I don’t want to—I can’t—”

When Damen felt his own cock stir again in response to the sensation of their bodies sliding against each other, he immediately understood why Laurent was asking for caution. 

The look in Laurent’s eyes intensified. „I—I just—Thank you. For keeping this… impersonal.”

 _There is nothing impersonal about any of this,_ Damen thought. His world ended when Laurent’s lips brushed over his. They were cracked and dry, and they tasted of sweat and come. 

„Don’t do this,” he murmured, shaking his head, Laurent’s breath touching his. „It can’t be like this. Not...”

His voice trailed off when Laurent stilled on top of him, simply letting their lips touch lightly for a moment. Then Laurent nodded and rose, wiping his palms against his legs. 

„I apologise.”

Damen took a deep breath and pried himself off of the floor as well. 

„I think I hear someone coming,” Damen whispered, straining his ears. „Are you ready to fight?”

Laurent didn’t look ready to fight, not one bit. He looked utterly exhausted and terrifyingly broken – and from the look in Laurent’s eyes Damen took that his own condition didn’t appear any more reliable.

Laurent nodded, briefly closing his eyes. „Let’s get out of here,” he murmured and straightened his back. „We need to get back to Bazal. By now Torgeir will have—”

„Shhhhh!” Damen gestured for Laurent to stop whispering. The footsteps drew closer. They positioned themselves left and right of the cell’s gate and waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hides*


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're still with me... THANK YOU!!!

After their escape Damen couldn’t really remember how they had managed to overpower their guard and break free from the cell in the end. He remembered the guard being alone and him briefly wondering why that was the case. Why would they send a single man to check on them, why would he open the door so completely without any precautions?

Maybe they – _Jokaste_ , Damen reminded himself, _‘they’ meant Jokaste. His lover in an earlier life. The woman who had sent him to Vere as a slave._ Maybe Jokaste thought that he and Laurent were already dead.

Damen didn’t remember much from their flight from the prison and into the woods either. At some point of time they had to have stopped running, at some point of time they had to have collapsed onto the forest ground, underneath a tree, hidden from the road by a nearly impenetrable wall of shrubbery.

At some point of time, they had to have fallen asleep, out of breath and utterly exhausted, because the next thing Damen did remember was waking up there, under the tree on the forest floor. 

He sat bolt upright, his eyes searching his surroundings, his ears straining to hear the voices and steps and maybe the hooves of their followers’ horses. 

But apart from the sounds of the woods everything was silent, and Laurent was lying next to him, slowly coming awake as well.

Laurent slowly and painstakingly struggled to a sitting position, his body obviously sore and in a lot of pain.

„Are you all right?” Damen wasn’t able to keep himself from asking that question, even though he knew the answer. And he had to know because he had caused this. Of course, Laurent was not all right.

Laurent nodded. Trying to raise to his feet, he winced and fell back down on the ground. A low moan slipped past his lips before he was able to bite them.

„You’re hurt. You are in pain.”

Laurent nodded again, curtly this time and as if against his will.

„I can—”

„No. Don’t.”

Half-turning around and reaching for the trunk of the tree behind them, Laurent scrambled to his feet. Small droplets of sweat began to pool on his upper lip and his face looked ashen. He clutched his stomach and held his breath. Then he exhaled shakily, and his eyes fluttered shut.

„I think—” Laurent swallowed, once, twice, three times. Then he groaned. „I’m going to be sick,” he said, his free hand balling into a tight fist. He was trembling, and for a moment it looked as if his knees were going to give in. He turned away from Damen and vomited, the fingers of his other hand digging into the tree’s bark. 

Damen closed his eyes and turned away. He was torn between the desire to help Laurent, to soothe the heaves that were tearing through his body, to calm his erratic breathing, and the desire to give Laurent what he knew he wanted most – privacy. His body was too weak to let him do either.

There was nothing else he could do but sit there, eyes closed, heart fluttering, as he tried to shut out Laurent’s retching and the way Laurent cursed under his breath whenever his body’s reaction to the after-effects of the drug and to what Damen had done to him would let him. 

When he heard the sound of rustling leaves and of cloth against the rough bark of the tree, he turned around again and opened his eyes. 

Laurent was leaning against the tree with his back, and he was breathing shallowly, eyes closed and cheeks sunken, lips cracked and dry and his arms hanging loosely by his sides.

„I think it’s over,” he murmured, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. He groaned and bent over when another wave of nausea washed over him, but this time, he was able to fight it. 

„I need to bathe,” he ground out, his voice raw from the vomiting. „I stink.”

„There’s a river nearby,” said Damen and rose to his feet as well. „I can hear it. Let’s go and get cleaned up.”

Laurent nodded and carefully pushed himself away from the tree. He swayed, but when Damen reached out to steady him, he held up his hand, palm turned towards Damen.

„Don’t.”

Damen bit his cheeks. Of course, Laurent wouldn’t want to be touched, and least of all by him. He nodded.

„Let’s go.”

The short distance to the river Damen walked behind Laurent, weak in the knees himself, but ready to support Laurent should the need arise. It didn’t.

Laurent just walked down the riverbed and straight into the water, he walked through the shallow water near the bank until it came up to his waist, and then he immersed himself fully. 

Damen watched the bubbles raising from where Laurent had gone under, slowly wading into the water himself. He wanted to get the grime of the cell off of his skin and out of his hair, he longed to clean his clothes almost as much as he needed to clean his mind and his soul.

What he had done to Laurent back in that cell—he couldn’t even think about it for another moment.

As soon as he reached slightly deeper waters, he went under, letting the cold water surround him and close above his head. He closed his eyes. And then he opened them again, only to find Laurent just a short distance away, motionless under the river’s surface, eyes closed and floating in the in-between, his clothes still stained, the strands of his hair fanning above him like a twisted halo. He didn’t breathe for the longest time, and Damen had to fight hard to let him have this. 

When he couldn’t take it anymore, when his lungs felt as if they were going to explode with lack of air, Damen resurfaced. 

Laurent was still under, and the bubbles had ceased to rise. Damen stared at the smooth surface, the current below just a faint hint of ripples. 

When Laurent broke the surface, it was slow and reluctant. The crown of his head appeared first, his hair like a helmet, like a glove, and his lips blue with the ice-cold water. Without turning around to face Damen, he took his clothes off beneath the waterline and washed them between his hands as good as he could. He placed the wet chiton over his shoulder and dove down again to get some more water into his hair. When he came up again, Damen could see the bruises on his back and shoulders, and for a moment he was glad that he couldn’t see more.

Damen ran his fingers through his hair, scrubbing at it roughly, thinking back to the warm waters of the summer palace’s baths. 

These waters were clear, at least, and cleaning the remains of the cell off of his body helped. He didn’t undress, though, but rubbed the cloth of his chiton with his palms wherever he could reach. 

When he was done cleaning himself, Laurent turned and walked back to the shore again, still naked. Out of the water, he wrung his chiton and put it back on again, the wet fabric clinging to his shivering body. 

It was cold in the woods, barely a ray of sunlight penetrated the dense foliage of the trees lining the river. 

Damen sighed. He made it to the shore as well where Laurent was just standing, facing away from Damen, his arms wrapped around his body, trembling.

„Laurent,” said Damen, surprised at how hollow his voice sounded. „I—”

„We need to get back,” said Laurent, squaring his shoulders for a moment, but then letting them sag again. „I need to get back to Bazal. I—”

„You can’t possibly _still_ be contemplating to go through with it. Not—”

Laurent visibly deflated before Damen’s eyes. When he turned around, his cheeks were hollow and his eyes empty, except for a distant note of pain.

„What do you want?”

Laurent’s voice was flat, distant, impersonal. He sounded truly and utterly drained, and Damen’s heart constricted.

„I want you to reconsider.”

There it was. There it was what Damen hadn’t been able to say before. 

„Why?”

„Why?” Damen felt a rage rise up inside of him like he’d never known before. „ _Why?_ ” He drew a deep breath, trying to reign himself in. „You know why.”

„I don’t know anything,” Laurent whispered, and it almost made Damen break. This was infinitely more painful than being tied to the cross and whipped within an inch of his life. „I—”

„You—”

„Don’t tell me what I know and what I don’t know,” Laurent snapped, cutting short Damen’s words. His chin rose and his eyes filled with ice. „Don’t you dare tell me what I—”

„Laurent, I—”

„I don’t _care_ what you want, _Damianos_ ,” Laurent spat. „I don’t _care_ what you think I know.”

Damen staggered. Laurent’s sudden outburst of fury all but made him retreat. It made him take a step backwards again, back to the river.

„Don’t you dare speak to me ever again.”

_Not after what you’ve done to me in that cell,_ the not so very hidden message ringing in Laurent’s demand, the message Damen heard all too clearly. Laurent was right, of course. He had no right, not to any of this.

Damen’s cheeks burned with guilt and overwhelming shame. He knew Laurent was right. He knew what he had done to him in the cell could never be forgiven.

„Forgive me,” he murmured nevertheless, even though he knew he had no right.

„There is nothing to forgive,” said Laurent, a bitterness in his voice that made Damen’s blood curdle in his veins. The echo of his own words, spoken to Torveld a few days prior, rang in his ears. He didn’t move. He couldn’t.

„What?” Laurent sounded hurt and tired and defiant at the same time when he spoke again. „What else do you want of me?”

Damen drew a deep breath. Rivulets of water ran from his hair over his face, mirroring the water running down Laurent’s. 

„I want you to reconsider,” Dame repeated what he had asked of Laurent mere moments ago. „I want you not to—with Torveld.”

„But I told you we already have.” Laurent had composed himself from his temporary weakness, his body no longer visibly shaking. His voice was clearer now, the dagger had been sharpened again. „And you thought I wouldn’t. Hoped, probably. You naïve brute.”

„I know you would,” said Damen, hating how defeated he had to sound. But there was no denying this, not after what Nikandros had confessed to him back at the summer palace.

Laurent scoffed. „Oh yes,” he said, laughing mirthlessly. „Of course. Nikandros.”

Damen bowed his head a little, purposely looking to the ground. Dried leaves and bugs and worms. Twigs, too. They would snap in two in a heartbeat under the weight of his foot if he stepped on them.

„Yes,” Damen confirmed. „Nikandros. Nikandros can’t lie.”

Laurent took the hem of his chiton into his hands and squeezed. Water poured down his legs and sept away into the forest’s ground. 

Something stirred deep inside of Damen’s mind, something began to tug at him deep down, something he had missed, something he should have noticed earlier, something—

„Wait,” he said when Laurent turned to take the first step away from Damen. 

Laurent froze.

„You _know_ Nikandros can’t lie.”

„So?”

Suddenly, Damen saw it all, as clear as the light at daybreak in Ios. The pain that came and washed over him with the realisation nearly sent him to his knees.

„You did it on purpose.”

„I did _what_ on purpose?” Still, Laurent wouldn’t turn around, but he didn’t have to. Damen knew what he would find on Laurent’s face, written there as if etched into his features by the tip of a Veretian sword.

„You _knew_ it was Jokaste. In Vask. The threat.”

Damen was sure new he was right, he knew it, for Laurent remained frozen on the spot, only his hands grabbed hold of the wet fabric of his chiton again and turned into tight fists. He knew he was right because Laurent kept silent.

„You _knew_ it was Jokaste who is behind all of this, you knew it before all of this started, so you fucked Nikandros to drive me away.” Damen took a deep breath, his head swimming with everything he saw and understood now. „You _knew_ , and so you went to Nikandros and fucked him so I’d find out and let you go. You fucked him so I’d let you go and marry Torveld.” The speed with which Damen spoke accelerated, becoming rapid and laden with shock when they had been slow and disbelieving before. „And it had to be _him_ because you _know_ he can’t lie. Not to me. You _knew_ he would tell me. So, you went to him and—”

„I—”

„You—” Damen swallowed. „You did all of this to… You want Bazal.” He felt dead tired all of a sudden, his arms and legs as heavy as lead. He felt a strong pull to the ground, a need to lie down and to close his eyes, to shut everything down and to let the worms and bugs crawl over and into him, if only he could stop looking at Laurent’s back, if only he could stop this mind-numbing pain.

„Nonsense. I did no such thing.” 

„You don’t do anything without a battalion of intentions.”

Damen watched Laurent steel his back and slowly turn around. His face was a mask, and his lips were pressed into a thin white line.

„Believe what you want to believe,” said Laurent. „I did it simply because I _wanted_ to. I wanted to fuck Nikandros, Nikandros of Ios, who is so much more of a man than you will ever be. I did it because you simply weren’t enough. Because I wanted more, better. Because—”

„Why?”

Damen’s interruption seemed to throw Laurent, and that might have been one of the very few times Laurent appeared to be at a loss for words. At least for a short while.

„Why what?”

Something erupted inside of Damen then, a rage so blinding all he saw was red. The need to strike something, anything, rose inside of him and overwhelmed his rational mind, so he rammed his fist against the nearest tree, hard, a huffed cry falling from his lips. _A deadly wounded animal, the spear still stuck in its side._ His skin broke and tore against the rough bark, and a numbing pain shot through his arm straight into his heart. He took a careful, measured breath and then he did it again. And again.

„Why? Just why did you do that?” Damen almost screamed, the dull throbbing spreading from his battered knuckles taking hold of his entire body inch by inch. „What possessed you to do something so utterly stupid as to pledge yourself to Torveld? Why would you ever—”

„Stop.”

One word, just one word, spoken at almost the usual volume of Laurent’s voice, sharp and poignant, silenced Damen mid-question. All that remained was the pain. The look in Laurent’s eyes was indescribable. The battlements were high and impenetrable, but the eviscerating battle raging inside those confinements made Damen gasp.

„You have no right to ask me any of this,” said Laurent coolly, raising his chin. „Yes, I want Bazal, I want Patras – and it _wil_ l be mine one day. And it was my decision to go after it the way I did, and my decision alone.” Laurent exhaled, visibly willing his body to let go of at least some of the tension it had been held by ever since he’d turned around. „Everything that has happened was my decision, for reasons that belong to me, and to no one else. Least of all to you. As is what is going to happen next.”

Laurent took a deep, shaky breath and nodded.

„And I will get back to Bazal as soon as I find my way out of this forest, and in Bazal Torveld and I will forge the bond of marriage, the bond of the alliance against Vask.”

_The bond of marriage._ Damen was aware that Laurent had chosen those words carefully, as carefully as he chose every word he spoke. It wasn’t just the ceremony. It also meant… the consummation. It wasn’t a public one in Patras, as far as Damen knew, but it had to be done right after the vows and blessings, right after the ceremony had come to an end, for the marriage to be valid, and it had to be confirmed, verbally and in writing, by both partners, now bound to each other for life. 

Laurent was still in pain. The last traces of the drug were still in his system. He had just been raped in that cell, repeatedly. He shouldn’t be touched by anyone until he had at least had some time to heal. 

„You can’t do that,” said Damen, his voice rough and raw with pain. „Not so soon. Not so soon after—”

„You mean, I can’t let Torveld fuck me when your seed is still running down my inner thighs?”

Damen’s heart stopped. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. Laurent hadn’t just said that. He couldn’t have.

„Rest assured that I can. I can and I will. I will get back to Bazal. I will bathe. I will have a slave wash my body and prepare me. And I will be married to Torveld in the morning.” Laurent gave a curt nod, and his eyes flared up for a split moment. „Or did you want to do it?”

Even though Damen knew what Laurent meant, he asked. „Do what?”

„Prepare me,” said Laurent, his words taunting and acidic. „Prepare me to be fucked.” He tilted his head a little as if he was taking a closer look at Damen, contemplating what he had just said. „Oh, but you couldn’t, could you?” 

Damen’s heart was pounding in his chest, echoing with the dull throbbing that had all but paralyzed his right arm. 

„I still tend to forget at times that you weren’t properly trained as a slave. You never were trained to attend a Prince, were you? So, you never learned how to prepare me properly. You never learned how to do that.”

„I—” _I’d do it nevertheless if it would make it any easier for you. I’d do it in a heartbeat if you asked me to._

„Maybe Torveld will send Erasmus to do it. Erasmus knows those things, I am sure.”

Damen took his damaged fist into his left hand and closed his fingers around it tightly. The pain was sublime. It blocked out everything else.

„Let me escort you back to Bazal,” said Damen, his eyes burning with the same sharpness his knuckles did. „It can’t be a long way to go from here. We—” He swallowed around the rusty dagger in his throat. „We should be there before nightfall. Let me see to that.” 

Laurent held Damen’s gaze for another few heartbeats, and then he nodded. „What are we waiting for, then,” he said. „Let us not waste any more time.”


	9. Chapter 9

They made it back to Bazal and into the citadel at the break of dusk. Laurent looked utterly exhausted and he was shivering with the effort to stay on his feet and with the cool of the setting sun. He staggered and stumbled, and more than once Damen had to reach out to steady him and to keep him from falling over. 

Laurent’s jaws were set, his eyes focused on what lay ahead. The city walls. The cobble stones of the street leading to the citadel’s gates. The gates, the courtyard, the stone steps, the entrance. He was as pale as the walls behind the lush, ornate tapestries, his cheeks hollow and sunken, and his lips grey and dry. Damen knew that he was going to be sick again as soon as the doors to his quarters would have closed behind him. He bit his lips.

„Escort the Prince to his quarters,” he said as soon as they’d passed through the doors, and two guards immediately followed his order. „Let no one in but the physician. See to it that he has everything he needs.”

„Exalted,” Nikandros exclaimed, hurrying down the stairs to Damen’s left, Torveld and Torgeir at his side. „You are alive. What—”

„Where’s the Prince,” Torveld inquired, his features tight with worry, turning his head in the direction of the receding steps of the guards. „What—”

„The Prince has been escorted to his chambers,” said Damen, indicating where the guards had led Laurent away. „He’s—” He didn’t know how to put it. „Alive. He’s… safe.”

„What happened?” Nikandros stepped up to Damen and laid a hand on his arm. When Damen flinched, he yanked it away again as if it had been burned. „Exalted. Your hand. What—”

Nikandros had paled. When Damen’s eyes followed his, he understood why. His hand was dark with dried blood and glistening with fresh, the bones of his knuckles visible through the torn skin. It didn’t even hurt anymore, it only felt numb.

„It’s Jokaste,” said Damen, looking up, his voice hollow and breathless. „I—” His eyes dropped down to his hand again. It was his sword hand. He desperately needed to see a physician. 

„Damen, what—”

His knees felt weak, and he began to tremble. His vision blurred and narrowed. At the back of his neck, cold sweat began to pool, and on his upper lip, too. His stomach lurched violently.

„I—” He swallowed. „I need… water. I—”

He needed to get away from here, and fast. He needed to be alone in case he passed out. He needed to get away from here. From them.

„I need—”

He turned sharply and left, leaving Nikandros and the others behind, feeling their eyes following him, staring at his back. He barely made it to his quarters. He knew he was going to be sick, and as soon as the doors had closed behind him, he fell to his knees and vomited. After the days of their capture and flight – two, maybe three days, he couldn’t say for certain – there was nothing inside of his stomach to throw up, so all that came up was bile. It hurt. His whole body hurt, his chest, his legs, his throat, his head – everything hurt but his hand. His hand felt numb. 

His whole body shook with the cramps, and he retched and coughed until his throat felt bloody and raw. He let it happen for as long as it lasted. Sweat and tears burned in his eyes, and it took him a long while until he could sit back on his heels and try to catch bis breath. The fingers of his left hand were sticky with sweat and blood and worse as he ran them through his matted hair, coughing once more and then swallowing against another bout of nausea. 

At the periphery of his perception he registered the doors to his chambers being pushed open and voices without words. He was pulled to his feet and dragged across the room to the bed where he was laid down so that he, finally, could rest. He closed his eyes.

Someone, a physician, began to examine and then to wash his hand. It still didn’t hurt, and all he felt was an odd pressure. He might have lost his sword hand hitting that tree. That thought, to his distant bewilderment, didn’t upset him all that much. The thought that followed, though, made his stomach cramp, and he tried to sit up, but a firm hand pushed him back onto the mattress, and a warm voice touched his ears.

„It’s going to be all right.”

Nikandros. Nikandros was here, sitting on the bed next to Damen, and his hand was resting on Damen’s shoulder.

„Your hand,” said Nikandros, and Damen tried to pry his eyes open, without success. 

„Laurent,” he murmured, his tongue much too large and heavy in his mouth and his mouth far too dry to speak.

A hand found its way around the back of his neck and lifted his head a fraction. Something touched against his lips, the rim of a goblet. Something poured over his lips and ran down his cheeks and throat. Water. He opened his mouth a little, letting some of the cool liquid stream in – and sputtered. His throat still felt closed off, and he felt as if he’d choke on those few droplets of water. A shiver ran through his whole body, and he took a shaky breath and tried again. This time, he managed to fill his mouth with a little water and swallow it down. And again. 

„Your _hand_ ,” Nikandros said with emphasis, „is going to be fine.”

Damen released another shaky breath. His head sank back onto the pillow. „What about—”

„He is in good hands,” said Nikandros and sighed. „He will be all right. Torveld’s with him. And the king. He’s… He’s determined to… In the morning. The wedding ceremony will take place in the morning.”

„I ordered he’d be left alone. I—”

Again, a firm hand kept Damen from sitting up. 

„Damen, tell me what happened.”

„It’s Jokaste,” Damen murmured, dimly aware that he’d said that before, earlier, in the entrance hall. „We were captured and held prisoners, but after a while we were able to escape and make it back here. It’s Jokaste. She has taken Vask. She’s coming for—”

For the first time since learning who was behind all this, Damen realized what was really happening. Jokaste wasn’t coming for Patras. She wasn’t coming for Vere. She wasn’t even coming for Akielos or for his golden throne. She wasn’t even coming for him. She was coming for Laurent.

And Laurent knew. 

„Laurent,” gasped Damen after a short pause. He tried to sit up again, and this time, Nikandros let him. „I need to speak to the king. I need—”

„You need to let the physician do his work,” Nikandros interrupted and held the goblet out for Damen to take in his hand, which Damen did, bringing it to his lips with fingers still shaking. „You need to let him do his work, you will need your sword hand intact. And you need to rest. At least an hour, better two. Then you can speak to—”

„I’ll let him tend to my hand,” said Damen, handing the empty goblet back to Nikandros. „And then I will speak to the king. There is no time to rest, not now.” From the look in Nikandros’s eyes, Damen could see that there would be no more arguing. The King of Akielos had spoken to his kyros, and his kyros would obey.

„Yes, Exalted,” said Nikandros, nodding curtly. „As you wish.”

„Thank you, my friend,” said Damen, feeling a little of his strength seep back into his body. He winced as the physician began to dab the wound with something distinctly pungent. It hurt. „For… everything.”

Nikandros nodded again, searching for Damen’s eyes. „Do you… want me to leave?”

„No.” Damen shook his head. „Stay.” He bit his lips when the physician put his needle to work and groaned when he pierced his skin. 

„Good,” said Nikandros, narrowing his eyes. „It should hurt. You were foolish to go after him like that, on your own. It was madness. You could have—”

„But I didn’t,” Damen pressed through his teeth, breathing against the waves of pain and nausea spreading through his body. „I had to—”

„He fucked you over one too many times, Damen,” Nikandros cut in sharply, his face reddening with anger. „He bedded you because he wanted Delpha. You gave him Delpha. He bedded me because he wants Ios.”

„No,” Damen shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment. „He already has Ios. He bedded you because he wants Bazal.”

Nikandros fell silent, his eyes narrowing once more. He huffed and briefly averted his gaze before locking eyes with Damen again. 

„And how is he going to get Bazal by bedding m—” Nikandros paused when Damen bit his lips. „Oh,” he said, and Damen just nodded.

„Yes. _Oh._ ”

„He—”

„Yes.”

„And you still went after him like that, on your own, without any—”

„I owe my kingdom to him,” said Damen quietly. The physician pierced his skin again with his needle, and Damen hissed. „I owe him my—I owe him this.”

Nikandros sighed and slowly rose from where he was sitting on the bed, pointing his chin in the direction of the physician. „At least let him finish before you go and speak to Torgeir,” he said. „It’s your sword hand. You will need it.”

Damen watched him leave the room and sank back onto the mattress. „Get this over with,” he murmured, and when the physician paused what he was doing he added: „Now. Hurry.” He covered his eyes with his free arm and exhaled. He really needed to speak to Torgeir as soon as possible. 

There still was time to fix this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two more chapters to go...


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter... Thank you so much for staying with this story til here!!! <3

The soldiers guarding the entrance to Torgeir’s chambers stepped aside when Damen approached. He was still clad in his dirty clothes, and his sutured hand throbbed beneath the bandage the physician had wrapped around the wound. Damen could smell the salve he had applied before adding the bandage, but that was only because its scent was very intense. Damen knew he reeked. 

The king was alone when Damen entered. He was sitting at the table, staring at a map lying in front of him, and he looked tired. When the doors closed behind Damen, he lifted his head.

„King Damianos,” he said. „Come. Sit.” He motioned for Damen to join him at the table, and Damen drew out a chair and sat. „Is there anything you wish for?” Torgeir asked, genuine concern in his voice. „Anything you need?”

„A word,” said Damen and cleared his throat. He curled his injured hand into a loose fist and opened his mind to the pain. “We need to talk.”

Torgeir nodded. „What do you want?”

„I am here to ask you to release the Prince of Vere from his oath,” said Damen, his voice steady and calm. He had practiced this on his way to Torgeir’s chambers. He knew what he needed to do, and he was determined to achieve this goal at all costs. „I am here as the King of Akielos, and I am asking you to release the Prince of Vere from his promise.”

„No.”

„I am here to offer myself as substitute,” said Damen after a short pause. He had known Torgeir wouldn’t oblige without any kind of collateral. Torgeir was a veteran regent, and it was only natural that he would demand compensation. „I am here to offer you the throne of Akielos.”

„No.”

Torgeir’s face was made of stone, but there was a distant softness around his mouth that Damen was going to exploit mercilessly. 

„And the throne of Vere.”

Torgeir frowned. „The throne of Vere is not yours to give.”

„It will be,” said Damen, having anticipated that reply as well. „I guarantee you it will be. You are right, it isn’t mine yet, but it will be. And when it is, it’s yours.”

„How—”

„I will take it,” said Damen, curling his hand tighter. „With the armies of Akielos and Vask.”

„Jokaste,” said Torgeir, tasting the name on his tongue, and Damen nodded. „You are willing to go back to her. You are willing to go behind the Prince’s back.”

„I am,” said Damen and nodded again. „I will go to Jokaste, I will reunite with her. I will take Arles with her help, and I will give you the thrones of Akielos and of Vere if you release the Prince from his word.”

„He will never forgive you.”

„I know.” Damen could feel the stitches in his hand tear. Stars began to spark in front of his eyes, and he could taste bile rising at the back of his throat. He needed to get this over with, and to get it over with fast.

„My brother would never forgive me,” said Torgeir, breaking eye contact and turning his head towards the window. 

„King Torgeir, I—”

„Silence,” commanded Torgeir, and Damen, surprised by that turn of the negotiations, obeyed.

Watching Torgeir closely, Damen felt his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He was so close to what he wanted, so close to what needed to be achieved. There wasn’t anything else he had to offer, and if Torgeir—

„No.”

A sound rose from Damen’s chest that he could only compare to the sound of a man being stabbed in the back without having seen it coming. 

„No, King Damianos,” said Torgeir without looking back at him. „It cannot be like this. But I offer you a deal. If the Prince of Vere asks me for it himself, I will release him from his oath.”

Damen’s chest constricted.

„And the alliance?”

„The alliance will still stand. Patras will fight Vask alongside Vere and Akielos, as was promised. But the Prince has to ask me himself. That is my condition.”

„He is never going to do that,” said Damen. 

Torgeir nodded.

„Then make him.”

*****

Laurent was sitting behind a large wooden desk when Damen entered his chambers. He had bathed and washed his hair, and he was clad head to toe in fresh Veretian clothing and boots. He was writing, the flickering light of the candle at his elbow accentuating the shadows beneath his eyes and the sallowness of his face. 

Torveld was standing at the window behind Laurent, looking outside, and he turned around when Damen entered.

„King Damianos,” Torveld said, and Laurent looked up, slowly, as if in a dream. „What—”

„Leave us,” said Damen, his voice too harsh and sharp for his own liking. He took a breath and forced the corners of his mouth to curl upwards a tiny bit. „Please. The Prince and I need to talk alone.”

Torveld’s eyes darted to Laurent, and Laurent nodded. His eyes didn’t follow Torveld as he walked across the room and left, but instead they returned to the parchment on the desk in front of him, and he resumed writing.

„What do you want,” said Laurent when the doors had closed behind Torveld.

„We need to talk,” said Damen and took a step closer to where Laurent was sitting. When Laurent lifted his gaze, the look in his eyes made Damen freeze to the spot. For one blink of a knock, Laurent’s eyes were screaming Stop.

„About what?”

„About what happened in the cell.”

„No.” Laurent’s face was unreadable. He had completely closed himself off.

„You can’t marry Torveld in the morning,” said Damen, and he hated the pleading tone that had crept into his voice. „Not after—”

„We have been over that,” said Laurent, calm and composed. He tilted his head a little. „I can and I will.” His glance dropped to the parchment in front of him again. He signed the document and looked up at Damen once more. „I have nothing more to say in this matter.”

„What is that?” Damen took another small step forward and stopped again, even though Laurent’s eyes didn’t order him to this time. 

„That?” Laurent’s fingers brushed over the parchment gently. His voice had taken on a dreamy note. „That is my marriage contract.”

„Your—”

„My marriage contract,” Laurent repeated pointedly, looking down at the parchment again, his eyes following his fingertips. „There are a lot of things that need to be considered,” he added. „A lot of things that need to be put in order when two kingdoms merge.”

Damen’s chest constricted. Laurent looked so serious. So lost. Long moments passed before Laurent looked up again. He looked past Damen, fixing his eyes on some point behind Damen, the door maybe or the iron sconce on the wall next to it.

„You are not marrying the king, though,” said Damen, his eyes searching Laurent’s face for what he was apparently missing. „You are marrying the fifth in line to the throne.”

„For now,” said Laurent and met Damen’s gaze. He held it for a moment and then he looked away again. „I have to—” He paused. „Once a month. Just—Once a month. Not more. If I don’t want to.”

Damen’s whole body felt as if it was slowly filling with ice. Except for his hand. His hand burned. He tightened his fist again, feeling the skin tear around the stitches.

„It’s a small price to pay,” said Laurent, and Damen was barely able to hear what he was saying over the sound of blood rushing through his veins. „For a kingdom.”

Damen stared. He wished he’d be able to look away, to avert his eyes to anywhere but Laurent. He wasn’t. 

„I—” Laurent swallowed. His eyes dropped down to the parchment again, a bitter smile playing around his lips. „I will be al—I will be entitled to a personal slave.”

Damen blinked against the blurriness of his vision. This could not be happening. Laurent couldn’t be so matter of fact about any of this, it was impossible.

„Will you come to me?” Laurent asked, briefly biting his lips. „Will you come to me – as a slave?”

Damen didn’t know what to say. There were no words. When Laurent looked up, guarded blue eyes behind a broken curtain of golden hair, a sharp pain shot through Damen’s chest. This time, it didn’t come from his hand.

„You said you were my slave once, at Ravenel. You said it again in the summer palace. Will you come to me when—” Laurent feel silent.

When Damen didn’t say anything for the longest time, he nodded. Slowly, as if in a dream.

„I forgot. You are not really a slave.” His eyes found their way to Damen’s wrist, to the cuff, the golden cuff, a reminder of a distant past. „And I am not really a king. Not yet.”

Damen’s breathing was shallow, and his heart was beating erratically. He longed to speak but there were still no words.

„I am grateful it was you in the cell,” Laurent finally broke the silence. „If it had been anybody else, I’d—” He swallowed again, angry red spots appearing on his pale cheeks. „I probably wouldn’t have survived.”

Damen’s head swam. His ears were ringing, and he felt utterly disconnected from his body. „Laurent,” he whispered, lifting his hand, his injured hand, a little as if to reach out, but then he dropped it again. „What—”

„What happened wasn’t your fault,” said Laurent and nodded again. „I know that. I—I’m grateful it was you.”

„Why are you doing this?” Damen caught Laurent’s eyes for a moment. „All of this?”

„I…” Laurent’s voice died, and he shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head once. „Because—”

„You don’t want Bazal,” said Damen slowly, as if he were retracing long forgotten thoughts. And with his words came the realisation, slowly, step by step. While he was speaking those words, Damen saw the truth, and he finally understood. „You are not doing any of this to win a kingdom.”

„Nonsense.” Laurent had straightened his back, and his words were firm again, firm and brittle, like ice over a lake. „Why else would I—”

Laurent wasn’t even denying it anymore with any kind of conviction, as he had been, earlier, in the woods. 

„You knew.”

Laurent frowned. Damen could see how the vein in his temple was pulsing rapidly. 

„You weren’t the least bit surprised when I told you it was her. In the cell.”

„I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

„Jokaste. When I told you it was her, back in the cell. You knew.”

„All of that, again? We’ve already been over all of that before, if I remember correctly,” said Laurent, so calm and composed it made Damen’s blood curdle. “In the woods.”

„Yes, we have,” said Damen, and this time he took a larger step towards Laurent, and then another. And another. 

„Why?”

„You know why.”

Damen nodded. He did. 

„She isn’t coming for you. For a while I thought she was, but she is not.”

Laurent looked away, the parchment in front of him forgotten – by him, not by Damen. 

Damen snatched the parchment away from underneath Laurent’s hands.

„You are not doing this,” Damen hissed, fisting the parchment in his bandaged hand, leaving it crumbled and blood-stained, „because you want Bazal. You are not doing this to protect your own kingdom, your own throne. You are not even doing this to protect yourself.”

„Stop.”

„You are doing this—”

„I said _stop_.”

Laurent’s eyes were burning with icy fire. His entire posture was a desperate attack. Like Govart had charged after he had lost his sword many moons ago, so did Laurent.

„If you value your life, don’t—”

„You are doing this because she is coming for _me_.”

For a few moments more, Laurent held his gaze. Then the looks in his eyes changed in rapid sequence.

Threat.

Desperation.

Defiance.

Defeat.

„She—” Laurent’s voice caught in his throat. He looked away. „She said if she couldn’t have you, neither cou—She said the only way to get you out of this alive would be—” He swallowed thickly. Once, twice, and a third time. „She has people everywhere. She was very convincing when she—This was the choice she gave me. Give you up – or lose you.”

„She—You are doing all of this to protect me.”

Laurent bit his lips and shook his head, once.

„Why? Why would you—”

„Because I—Because you are all I have,” Laurent whispered, cutting short Damen’s words, shaking with fury, his fingers clutching the edge of the desk so fiercely his knuckles turned white. His chest was heaving, and the red patches on his cheeks were as dark as bruises by then. „Because—” He let out a voiceless gasp. „Because you’re all I have now. And—”

„You fool.”

Damen closed the distance between himself and the desk, between himself and Laurent, and reached for Laurent’s jacket and pulled Laurent towards him, crushing their mouths together in a hungry, bruising kiss. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. All he _could_ do was _do_.

And Laurent _yielded_. 

Laurent’s mouth opened up to him the instant their lips met, and Damen claimed it with his tongue, deep and devouring, until they both had to break away for air. Somehow, he managed to get to the other side of the desk without letting go of Laurent. Reaching out blindly, his arm swept across the desk’s surface, sending parchment, ink and quill crashing to the floor along with the candle holder, the water jug, the goblet, half full, the sigil, the vase with the wilting flowers in it and a heavy, leather bound book. 

Laurent’s body followed Damen’s direction, reclining and spreading his legs, and Laurent moaned into the kiss, his fingers fisting into Damen’s hair.

„I want you,” Damen groaned, his hips jerking against Laurent’s groin, his cock already painfully hard. „I need—”

His fingers fumbled with the fastening of Laurent’s trousers while Laurent’s hands slid down his back, cupping his ass and drawing him closer. 

Damen cursed. Laurent wasn’t making things any easier. His cock throbbed and twitched, and for a moment he feared it would be over before it even started. 

„Fuck me,” Laurent moaned when Damen’s fingers had found their way into his garments and around his cock. „Just—”

Damen withdrew his hand and spat into his palm before he wrapped his fingers around Laurent’s cock again, stroking him slowly. When Laurent’s hips jerked and he began to fuck into Damen’s fist with answering thrusts, Damen bit his lips. It felt as if each time Laurent’s legs spread for him, he wanted Laurent more, more than the time before that and more than he was able to bear.

The need to be inside of Laurent became overwhelming, and his knees trembled. His own hips thrust against Laurent’s groin again, establishing a heated rhythm of ever-growing arousal. 

Laurent was tense underneath him, still fully clothed, almost no skin to touch or to kiss, except for that small patch below his jaws, right where his throat began. 

Damen brought his free hand up and pressed his thumb against that small piece of skin, catching Laurent’s lower lip between his teeth. Laurent’s back arched, and his cock swelled in Damen’s fist.

„Don’t—Make me forget.”

Damen let go of Laurent’s lips and rested his forehead against Laurent’s cheek, panting. The movement of his fingers and of his hips ceased, and his knees trembled. He was on the verge of climax, and from the way Laurent’s body felt against his, he could tell that Laurent was just the same. Damen lifted his head and opened his eyes.

„I can’t.”

Laurent’s eyes were squeezed shut tightly, and he was biting his lips so hard they were nothing more but a thin white line.

„Laurent,” Damen whispered, running his thumb over Laurent’s burning cheek. He could still feel Laurent pulsing against his palm, his cock hot and hard and straining for release. „Let—”

„No.” Laurent shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut even tighter.

Biting his lips, Damen let go of Laurent’s cock and withdrew his hand from Laurent’s trousers. His heart was beating erratically and waves of heat washed over his body. 

Laurent was shaking with tension. „It—” He shook his head again, and his voice hitched. His tongue darted out and ran over his lips quickly, and Damen thought he had to be able to taste Damen there, a lingering trace of unimaginable need. „She’d—”

Laurent’s eyes fluttered open for a brief moment, a piercing pain in Damen’s gut. Laurent’s lips, slightly open, were dark red and swollen from being kissed and bitten. Damen’s eyes zeroed in on them, the reminiscence of a bleeding wound. Ripe pomegranate. He took a small step backwards, and then another one. The distance hurt.

Laurent’s fingers shook when he tied up his trousers again, and when he sat up, his hair was a mess. There still were those red spots on his cheeks, and his chest was rising and falling rapidly. His eyes flew to the parchment on the floor next to the desk, and Damen’s followed.

„No,” whispered Damen. „You can’t.”

„I can,” said Laurent quietly. His eyes lingered on the parchment as he ran his fingers through his hair. „And I will. How often do I need to say that? We have been over that before.”

„Torgeir—” Damen cleared his throat, his voice still hoarse with the remains of their kiss. „Torgeir said he would release you from your promise if you asked him to.”

Laurent exhaled shakily. „I cannot do that, I’m afraid.”

„You can.” Damen balled his hands into tight fists. „All you—”

„I said I can’t,” Laurent snapped, and then his gaze lifted and his eyes found Damen’s. „You should leave now. There are still a lot of things to be dealt with before tomorrow morning.”

Damen’s head shot up, and Laurent’s snapped around when the doors to Laurent’s chambers swung open and Torveld entered the room. They watched Torveld stop dead in his tracks a few steps into the room.

Torveld’s eyes took everything in, Laurent still sitting on the desk, the messy state of Laurent’s hair, the color of his lips, the parchment and the other items on the floor, Damen’s clenched fists.

„Leave us,” he said to Damen, his voice calm and bridled but his eyes wide with the realisation of what he had to think had clearly come to pass in this room while he had been absent. 

Damen took one last look at the quickly pulsing vein at Laurent’s throat before he nodded curtly and walked around the desk and out of the room without turning back again.

He trusted Torveld. Torveld was a good man, Damen knew that. Torveld wouldn’t harm Laurent, at least not intentionally, not even now. He had made Damen the promise to be kind to Laurent, and Damen had believed him. Torveld was an honorable man, and he would honor his promise. Damen trusted him. 

He didn’t trust himself, though.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the last one... Buckle your seat belts!!

Damen didn’t sleep that night. He sat at the table in his quarters, upright and awake, long after the candles in front of him had burned out. He sat there until the break of the new day. He didn’t see the skies turn from black to blue since the windows were in his back, but he saw the objects in the room take shape and watched the colors of the tapestries lining the walls slowly emerge from the grey of the dying night.

His eyes burned, and his whole body hurt with fatigue and with sheer devastation. He would lose Laurent in just a few hours, and there was nothing left he could do against it. Jokaste had won. His mind felt numb, and so did his heart. A dull ache throbbed in his chest. There was nothing he could do. Jokaste had won.

He barely registered when there was a knock on the door, and then another. He blinked when the doors were opened but he didn’t look up.

„Exalted.” 

Nikandros entered and slowly walked towards where Damen was sitting.

Damen blinked again, his eyes still staring straight ahead, unfocussed and burning. He couldn’t quite bring himself to turn his head. 

„Damen.”

„I—” His throat hurt. It felt raw and tasted bloody. He couldn’t see clearly. „Nikandros, I—” He briefly looked up, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head. „How long?”

„You should change into formal garments,” said Nikandros after a short pause. „The ceremony will begin—”

„She won.”

Nikandros swallowed heavily before he spoke again. „Akielos is safe,” he said. „You are safe. L—The Prince is safe. The alliance—”

„Akielos will never be safe as long as she is alive.” He meant Vere. He meant Laurent.

„Damen—”

Abruptly, Damen rose, pushing his chair back so forcefully it fell over backwards. The sound of wood on marble made Nikandros flinch.

„I’m going after her,” said Damen. „I’m going to put an end to this. For good.” He had slammed his fists against the table’s surface, he noticed only then, causing the wound on his right hand to tear open again under the bandage. He was grateful for the pain it caused.

Nikandros took a small step closer, his face filled with worry and concern. „You don’t even know where to f—”

„I know where she is,” said Damen, locking his eyes with Nikandros’s and squaring his shoulders. „She is in Ios. She is going to want to claim her throne.”

Nikandros nodded. „I’ll have the horses readied as soon as I can.”

Damen acknowledged that with a short answering nod and watched Nikandros turn on his heels and leave. He leaned forward, letting the pain from his wounded knuckles radiate through his body. Like a wave of the ocean, it pooled around his heart. He needed to focus. He needed to think.

*****

When they rode through the city gates, leaving Bazal behind, bells were ringing in the citadel. The ceremony was about to begin. Damen felt his horse’s muscles move underneath him, and he kept his eyes on the road. From the corner of his eyes he could see Nikandros riding next to him, and he could hear the hooves of the horses carrying the four soldiers travelling with them in his back. Whenever he closed his eyes, an image flared up in his mind, Laurent with a thin golden band around his head, the gold standing out against his pale forehead, his eyes glittering with determination, and his lips a bleeding wound. 

Whenever he closed his eyes even for the briefest moment, he saw Torveld looking at Laurent, his face shining with pride, and his eyes filled with an almost giddy expectation. 

He decided to keep his eyes open for as long as possible.

The rhythmic swaying of the horse underneath him made him feel nauseous. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He would go through with this no matter what. He would cut Jokaste down, and he would ensure Laurent was safe.

*****

The journey back to Ios was a silent one. Damen spoke only when absolutely necessary, and Nikandros respected that. He brought Damen food and drink after they’d made camp at night, and he sat with him for some moments at the camp fire, but he almost never spoke. When he woke Damen from his fitful sleep in the mornings, he did it with only one word: „Exalted.”

Damen was grateful for that. It hurt to speak even more than it hurt to think, even more than it hurt to dream. There were no words for the pain he was feeling in his chest, there were no words for how much he longed for Laurent. 

Laurent, who had been married to Torveld for ten days now, and who must have lain with Torveld at least once, officially consummating their marriage. Whose legs had been spread by Torveld’s hands, whose entrance had been breached by Torveld’s fingers and cock, whose body had opened up to Torveld like it once had to Damen. 

Damen couldn’t stop thinking about the consummation. He couldn’t stop wondering if Laurent had come, too, if he had spilled himself in pleasure, coaxed by Torveld’s kiss and caress. Laurent was so beautiful when he came, his face turning from utterly tense to completely relaxed within a blink of an eye, his lips slightly parted and—

„Exalted.” 

Damen’s eyes flew open. His cheeks were flushed with the flames of the camp fire, and his fingers had intertwined and tightened into a tangled knot. The healing scar on the back of his right hand looked angry and red. Damen bit his lips.

„Damen.”

It was the last night before they would reach Ios, and Damen could already taste the bitter tang of revenge on his tongue. He looked up.

„Stop it.”

Damen frowned. Nikandros handed him a mug of wine, regarding him with a look of concern in his eyes.

„Stop torturing yourself.”

Damen scoffed. He took the mug from Nikandros’s hand and brought it to his lips. He took a sip and cradled the mug in his hands, swirling the wine around in his mouth for a moment before swallowing it down. 

„Easier said than done.”

Nikandros sat down next to him and took a long swallow from his own mug. 

„I don’t know what to say.”

Damen turned his head and looked at his friend, watching the shadows the flames cast dance on his face. 

„I have lost him,” said Damen after he had turned back to stare into the flames. „After everything that has happened, after everything he had to go through, I have lost him.”

„I—”

„I would have given everything up for him,” Damen went on, raising the mug to his lips again. „I would have—I would have given up Ios.”

„You have,” Nikandros said quietly, and Damen nodded. 

„I know.”

Not a single word was exchanged between them for the rest of the night while they drank more wine and listened to the crackling of the fire wood and watched the flames die down as the hours passed. When Nikandros retired to his tent a short time before the break of day, Damen stayed. The cold of the night overtook the warmth of the embers, and Damen’s fingers turned numb.

When the sun came up, Damen got up to wash in the nearby river while his men broke down their small camp. His horse was already readied for him when he came back, and he mounted it immediately. They reached the city gates shortly before noon.

Heralds must have announced their approach hours earlier, because there were banners fluttering in the breeze, just like there had been banners greeting them when they rode into Bazal only a few weeks earlier, welcoming home the king. Men and women and children were lining the streets, waving at Damen and his men, throwing flowers at their feet, and Damen only wished for it to be over. He kept his eyes fixed on the palace gates, and when they were inside the courtyard, he closed his eyes for a moment. 

They rode up to the stairs leading to the entrance and dismounted their horses. The soldiers stayed with the horses, and Damen and Nikandros made for the gates, Nikandros one step behind Damen, their right hands on the hilts of their swords.

Slaves, squires, servants – they all fell to their knees at the king’s sight, prostrating themselves as they were used to do. 

„Where—” Nikandros caught up and fell into step with Damen once they were inside.

„I know where she is,” said Damen, his eyes straight ahead and his fingers closing around the hilt of his sword even tighter. He made straight for the great hall, the throne room of Ios. He immediately saw her when the doors swung open.

She was sitting on the left of the twin thrones, calm and serene, immaculately dressed and not a hair out of place. Her face was glowing with an expression Damen couldn’t name but that made bile rise in his throat. 

„Damen,” said Jokaste when Damen and Nikandros stopped a few steps away from the dais. „Welcome home.”

„Get up,” Damen hissed, his fingers clutching the hilt of his sword and his jaws set tightly. „Now.”

„Why don’t you come here and sit with me?” Jokaste’s voice sounded sweet, innocent, welcoming and warm. „Come sit with me, Damen. Sit on your throne, my King.”

Damen took a step loser, his right foot on the first step leading up to the dais. 

„How dare you sit in his place?” He could feel the cold rage inside of him crest, the cold rage that had taken hold of his body and mind the moment Laurent had looked at that parchment on the floor back in his chambers in Bazal crest. „How dare you sit where—”

„But he has another throne now,” Jokaste sang. „Or he will have soon. Another kingdom. Another king. A better one.” Her eyes glittered. She tilted her head. „Poor Damen,” she said, furrowing her brow. „You didn’t know.”

Nikandros reached for his arm just in time to keep him from drawing his sword right there and then. Damen exhaled. He knew Nikandros was right. 

„You didn’t know that that throne and that kingdom and that prince’s brother were what he had been after from the very beginning.” She smiled. „Or maybe you did know once, when it all started. But then you fell in love with him and you forgot.”

He clenched his jaws so hard it hurt. He was not going to fall for that. He was not.

„I said _get up_ ,” he hissed, tightening the grip around his sword again. 

„That’s why he let you fuck him,” said Jokaste, her words as calm and steady as if they were meaning less chatter. „So you would forget.”

„ _Now_.” Damen climbed the three steps and came to stand only a few feet away from where Jokaste sat. „Get up _now_.”

Jokaste leaned back.

„Vere and Patras. A beautiful union.”

Her hands rested on the arm rests of the throne, and the pearls in her hair glittered in the sunlight streaming in through the multi-colored lead glass windows. „The Prince of Vere in Torveld of Patras’s bed. And in King Torgeir’s, after a while, of course. And poor Damianos left alone with a broken heart.” She shook her head, and the expression on her face was actually one of sympathy. „Poor, poor Damianos… Who would have thought? Still, you were foolish enough to go after him alone that night.”

For a moment, Damen didn’t know what she was referring to, but when he saw the look on her face, he understood. The cell.

„He came to see me that night, you know? The night before he was to marry the prince.” Jokaste lifted her hand and regarded her nails. She seemed lost in memory, a dreamy expression on her face. „He came to bargain with me one more time. He offered me Vere, again, in exchange for your life. I declined. I told him, one more time, that I didn’t want Vere. That what I wanted was Akielos. I only wanted what was rightfully mine. I told him that I didn’t want _him_ when he offered his life in exchange for yours. I wanted _you_. By which of course I meant _this._ ”

Damen closed the distance in a heartbeat and drew his sword. He brought its tip to the hollow of Jokaste’s throat. Jokaste didn’t move. She didn’t even flinch.

„His life was worth nothing to me, it still isn’t, but I still needed him alive to get you here. I didn’t need him… intact, though. Oh, and I almost forgot,” she added after a short pause. „If you hadn’t decided to be the fool you were and go after him that night, there would have been no cell.” She chuckled and shook her head, carefully, avoiding the sharp tip of Damen’s sword. „I never planned on drugging him and throwing him in that cell – but when my scouts found you in the woods and brought you to me, bound and unconscious, I thought I might have a little bit of fun. With you – and with him. If you hadn’t come after him, none of that would have ever come to pass.” 

„I said _get up now_.” Damen knew he had let her speak for far too long already, devastated by what her words had told him. He had to put an end to this, he had to put an end to this now, so he lifted the tip of his sword a little, and Jokaste rose, slowly and deliberately. She kept her eyes fixed on Damen’s, and another smile spread on her face.

„You’re still defending him,” said Jokaste, tilting her head the slightest bit, exposing her throat to Damen’s sword. „You’re still protecting him, even though he betrayed you each step of the way.”

„Exalted,” Nikandros tried to cut in when Damen raised the tip of his sword even further, forcing Jokaste’s chin up even more. „Don’t le—”

„Even though he let _him_ fuck him,” Jokaste went on, indicating Nikandros with a quick movement of her eyes. „Your faithful childhood friend. Even though you gave him your First Night.”

All air left Damen’s lungs, and his vision blurred. The sword in his hand felt insanely heavy, his arm felt insanely heavy, so heavy he had to let it sink and lower his sword. 

„You thought he didn’t tell me? Of course, he told me. Once he’d learned that I had taken you captive, he told me _everything_.”

Damen could hear the blood rushing through his veins and his heartbeat pounding in his chest. He felt short of breath, and a throbbing dizziness began to take hold of him.

„Exalted,” Nikandros tried again, but Jokaste’s words kept filling his mind. 

„When I had him at knife-point, when he’d already been given the drug, and you lay there, still unconscious. Before you were thrown into that cell with him. Before _you_ were drugged.”

Damen felt an overwhelming need to swallow against the dryness in his mouth, but he couldn’t.

„He pleaded with me, begged me not to give you the drug. He told me it would break you to make you do to him what the drug would force you to do. Which was, of course, exactly what I intended once I had the both of you in my cell.”

Damen couldn’t breathe. His head was swimming and an iron clamp was closing around his chest. 

„I made him watch me give you the drug. He begged me to end his life rather than...”

Damen’s knees buckled, and he staggered. It took all his strength to stay on his feet.

„It was beautiful.”

Jokaste took a step towards him and closed her hand around his hand on the hilt of his sword.

„Give me your sword, Damen,” she said, quietly. „You know it’s either you or him, you’ve always known that, and so has he. Let me put an end to this.”

Damen nodded slowly. He was ready. There was nothing left in him but pain. Laurent had known. In the cell. He had known the whole time what was going to happen, what Damen would do to him. And he had pretended not to know to protect him. 

He had been willing to die to protect him.

And so was Damen. 

He fell to his knees, beaten and heavy. He closed his eyes.

„Do it.”

Jokaste nodded. „Good bye, Damen,” she said. And Damen finally knew what it was he had seen on her face earlier. Madness.

He could feel her raise his sword and pause. He imagined her looking down at him, a broken man. He imagined her smiling at what she found. He thought of Laurent, safe now, because he knew that Nikandros would not let Jokaste live longer than a few moments after she had brought his sword across his throat. 

He lifted his chin and took a deep breath. He saw golden hair and lips like a bleeding wound. He was ready.

„ _No!_ ”

His eyes snapped open and his head turned around. 

Laurent was running towards the dais, his sword drawn and his eyes blazing with cold, determined rage. „Don’t you dare lay your hands on him!”

Jokaste cursed and took a step backwards. She raised Damen’s sword and charged. 

Damen had never seen a fight like the one unfolding right before his eyes. It was a battle of armies rather than a duel, a battle of armies of equal cunning and strength. He hadn’t known Jokaste could fight like that, and what he saw made him freeze. 

The fight went on for what seemed like hours, neither Laurent nor Jokaste tiring, neither of them slipping up at all. Laurent fought concentrated and focused, and Jokaste with a cool madness unlike any one Damen had ever seen. 

He couldn’t move. He was frozen to the spot there on his knees, and all he could do was watch.

The ringing of the two blades crossing again and again filled the great hall. The silence in between the hits was deafening. And then a miracle happened.

Jokaste tripped. She tripped and stumbled backwards, the back of her knees hitting the throne behind her, and she fell. Damen’s sword fell from her hand and she huffed, an expression of utter surprise showing on her face.

Laurent was panting heavily when he brought the tip of his sword to the hollow of her throat. Both his hands closed around the hilt, and he took a deep breath.

„Laurent,” Damen exclaimed, his voice hoarse with terror. Despite the overwhelming urge intervene, to stop what he was witnessing from happening, he found himself still unable to move. „Don’t. Don’t do this. Don’t let her win.”

„She already _has_ won,” said Laurent without turning his head. His eyes were still fixed on Jokaste. He changed the angle of his sword against her throat, ready to bear down.

„No,” Damen whispered. He wished he could close his eyes, but he couldn’t. „Please, Laurent, no.”

For just one second, Laurent’s attention faltered. It was all Jokaste needed. She was out of the throne and had taken the sword from Laurent’s hand before any of them even realized what was happening. She grabbed the hilt with both hands and lifted the sword high above her head, ready to strike Laurent down.

Laurent stared at her in shock, his lips slightly parted and as red as ripe pomegranate. His eyes were filled with bewilderment and disbelief. He looked very young.

Damen was rooted to the spot, his body in complete lockdown. He felt a scream rising inside of him, but it never came. 

She was going to kill him. Laurent was going to die right in front of his eyes, and there was nothing he could do.

From the corner of his eyes he could see something, a sudden movement, something bright flying through the air, a flash of silver, and then Jokaste’s eyes widened, and her shoulders sagged. The sword fell from her hands once more, shattering on the stone floor. She stumbled backwards once again, her body already heavy with death as it fell back down onto the throne.

Slowly, as if in a dream, she looked down at her chest, she looked down at the hilt of the dagger protruding from it and the blood slowly coloring her light blue dress dark around her heart. She looked up, and for a moment her eyes met Damen’s. Then she looked at something behind Damen’s shoulder.

Damen’s head turned around, and he saw Nikandros standing a few steps behind him, staring at his outstretched right hand.

Suddenly, there was a hand on his shoulder and Laurent was kneeling opposite him, saying his name over and over again. He reached for Damen’s face and took it between his hands.

„Damen,” said Laurent, his voice barely more than a whisper. „Damen. Are you hurt?”

Damen shook his head, the blood still roaring in his ears, almost unable to believe what was right in front of him. „You came.”

Laurent nodded, running his thumbs over Damen’s cheeks. „I had to, I—”

„What—” Damen swallowed thickly. This had to be a dream. „Your husband let you leave?”

„We—” Laurent swallowed as well. His eyes were wide and dark, Damen felt as if he was falling and falling and falling into their infinite depths. „We didn’t. He—” He exhaled shakily. „He let me go.”

„You mean—” 

Laurent nodded once more, the smallest hint of a smile playing around his lips. „I—”

Before he could say anything else, Damen had pulled him close and plucked the words from his lips with his own. His hand found its way to the back of Laurent’s head and into his hair, and his mouth devoured Laurent’s like a drowning man would gasp for air. His heart was racing, and he could feel himself rousing to a painful hardness in the matter of heartbeats, the need to give himself to Laurent almost unbearable. 

„She’s gone,” he whispered into their kiss, and Laurent nodded again, moaning low in his throat when Damen deepened the kiss even more. 

Damen forgot where he was and who else was there. All he could think about and feel and breathe was Laurent, Laurent, whose body was firm and warm against his, Laurent, who was kissing him back just as hungrily, just as desperately, Laurent, whose fingers—

Nikandros cleared his throat. And then he did it again.

Laurent and Damen broke apart, their lips just inches away from each other. Damen’s eyes were still closed, and he leaned his forehead against Laurent’s, unable to let go just yet. He could feel Laurent nod his head slowly.

When he finally was able to open his eyes, Laurent was right there, his lips already swollen and his face flushed a rosy shade of pink. Damen thought of ripe fruit and the skies over the Ellosean sea at dawn. He smiled.

„Exalted,” said Nikandros, and Damen’s smile deepened.

„It’s over,” said Damen, brushing his thumb over Laurent’s lower lip. „It’s finally over, Nikandros.”

Laurent took a deep breath and turned his head. 

„Nikandros of Ios,” he said, slowly rising to his feet. He took a step towards Nikandros while Damen rose as well. „You saved my life.”

Nikandros didn’t reply. He just stood there, holding Laurent’s gaze. 

„After everything—” Laurent paused. He turned his head and looked at where Jokaste lay dead on the throne, her eyes empty and broken. When he looked back at Nikandros, there was a hint of a frown on his face. „You saved my life.”

„I didn’t do it for you,” said Nikandros, raising his chin a little. „I did it for my king.” He looked at Damen.

When their eyes met, Nikandros nodded. „I did it because my king needs you.”

„You are an honorable man, Nikandros of Ios,” said Laurent, and a smile began to curl Damen’s lips at the pathos swinging in Laurent’s words. Laurent held out his hand. „ A good man. Thank you.”

The struggle taking place inside of Nikandros was visible on his face, but Damen could also pinpoint the exact moment the part of him in favor of Laurent won. He reached out and took Laurent’s hand in his. He nodded.

Damen looked at the two men, his closest friend since his childhood days and his lover, his life and his heart, and he smiled. Everything was as it should be. Everything was good.

He would take Laurent to bed later, and he would take his time making love to him, doing it slowly, just the way Laurent liked it. Laurent had forgiven him for the cell – now it was time for Damen to atone for his actions and to make up for what had happened. He would savor Laurent coming apart in his arms, and he would fall apart as well, giving himself up for Laurent until there would be nothing left of him but this.

Damen would be Laurent’s slave as well as his king, just as Laurent would be his. 

And after that, they would sleep, and the next morning they would rise again, and they would rebuild their kingdoms, together.

Two kingdoms, united as one, as it once had been in the days of old. 

~fin~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone who reads this! Thank you, Thank You, THANK YOU!!!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [sal-si-puedes](https://sal-si-puedes.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. Come and say Hi!


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